My Funny Valentine
by cakebythepound
Summary: The group has arrived at Alexandria, and Rick is acting... strangely, to say the least. Michonne thinks she can reel him in, but even she finds herself second-guessing the man she thought she knew. (Richonne. Timeframe: Alexandria. Warnings: Adult Language, Adult Situations, Jessica Anderson.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I'm warning you now, Jessie will be in this story! I know, I know. I don't like it myself (seriously, my outline for this story is full of rude commentary about her, lol), so I will do my best to keep her to a minimum. But I'm mostly going with show canon here, aside from filling in a few spots, so… Yes, there will be Supercuts, and yes, Rick will be acting a damn fool. Unlike the show, though, I will do my best to make it good. Better, anyway, haha. But I hope you like! –Ash

* * *

**Chapter 1  
**"**Deal."**

Rick sighed heavily as he trudged up the steps of what he was beginning to consider his new home. It had been an exceptionally long day, from driving to Alexandria, to getting everyone interviewed, washed, and fed. He felt like a completely different man than the one he woke up as. And while that was probably a good thing, he couldn't help but feel a bit wonky in this new place. The home they'd been given was absolutely beautiful, but he couldn't imagine feeling comfortable there for quite some time, if ever.

The rest of his group, however, seemed quite cozy, settled on the living room floor downstairs. He'd run up to the bedrooms to see if there were any more blankets he could steal for the night, but his mission was thwarted when he heard water running in one of the bathrooms. The door was wide open, so he took it upon himself to peek in, finding Michonne rinsing her mouth out. She was apparently brushing her teeth. Again.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he declared, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her return to the brushing portion of the show.

"Do you have a problem?" she asked with a smirk and a mouth full of toothpaste.

"No, but I think it's safe to say you do," he answered playfully, with raised eyebrows. "Did you not already spend twenty minutes doing this?"

"That was before we ate," she reminded him, smiling to show off her impeccably pearly whites. It felt so good to not have a nasty layer of tartar covering them.

"It's a bit much, Kiddo. Nobody's teeth need to be this clean."

She glanced at him briefly before spitting in the sink again. "Maybe I found myself a cute Alexandrian and I'm getting ready for a booty call. You don't know."

"I know you better not be," he smirked. He was doing his best to play it cool while still letting her know how he really felt about such a thing. "Besides, by the time you finish, it'll probably be morning."

"Oh, look at you with the jokes," she chuckled, flipping the water off once again. "You've been hot for all of three hours, and already, you're all kinds of arrogant."

He scoffed at the fact that she called him hot and took a few steps further into the bathroom. "Put down the toothbrush, Michonne."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say my toothbrushing isn't nearly as dangerous as your little haircut you got this afternoon." She, too, was trying to come off as casual, while still relaying her true feelings on the matter.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, you really let a stranger near your head with two sharp blades? Are you not the same guy that cold-cocked Aaron yesterday morning for showing you a picture?"

He had to chuckle at how hostile he'd been towards the poor guy. "I'll apologize to him tomorrow," he promised her.

"If you want to," she shrugged. "I'm more concerned about how reckless you were today."

"You mean with Jessie?" He hopped up on the bathroom counter as he dismissively waved off the idea that she could be a threat. "She was so obviously harmless." He noted that Michonne was looking back at him skeptically, so he went on. "She was one of those stay at home mom types. If you'd seen her, you'd understand. She could've been my wife, honestly."

She stopped brushing again and let her thoughts roam for a moment, fondly remembering some of the conversations they used to have back in Georgia. It all seemed so long ago now, but in reality, it had only been a few months. "You used to say _I_ could be your wife," she reminded him, pointing her toothbrush at him.

"I used to say you _should_ be my wife," he corrected her, looking her up and down. "Never once have you reminded me of Lori."

She figured that was supposed to be a compliment, but she wasn't going to push the issue one way or another. She rinsed her mouth out one final time before turning off the water and gazing back at him. She couldn't figure out why he was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. "Are you all right?" she frowned.

He snapped out of his trance – the one in which he'd been imagining Michonne as his wife, in some other life – and smiled at her sheepishly. "I'm fine."

She tilted her head to get a better view of his face. She didn't understand how he managed to be even more attractive than she originally thought him to be. And she found him pretty damn attractive when they first became friends. "It really is nice to see your face again," she told him sincerely.

He began to blush again. Others had been commenting on his good looks all afternoon, but only Michonne evoked that shyness in him. To the point where he seemed to forget just how well they knew each other. "Can we not do this again?"

"Fine." She dropped her toothbrush into its holder and patted his thigh. "But next time you need a haircut, you come to me. Deal?"

He chuckled at the fact that this had so clearly annoyed her, but offered up his surrender. "Deal."

With that, she left him to rejoin the group downstairs.

* * *

_**9 months ago.**_

Rick pulled their pickup truck into one of the many empty parking spots at an old, abandoned Waffle House. They needed a place to sleep for the night, and it seemed like a good spot – off the road, but had high visibility. "How's this?" he asked Michonne, looking over to her for approval.

She yawned as she made no hesitation of reclining the back of her seat. "It's fine."

He rolled his eyes at the fact that she had barely gotten a response out before letting her eyes fall closed. "I guess I'll take first watch then," he mumbled.

She purposely ignored his sarcastic comment, seeing how he'd been the first to go to sleep the night before, and turned so that she was facing her window.

He tiredly rested his head against the back of his seat and stared out to the old restaurant ahead of them. He wasn't sure where they were, exactly, but it somehow felt familiar to him, all the same. Perhaps because being near a Waffle House always reminded him that he wasn't far from home. He really missed those days where he and Shane would stop by the place after a long shift and have a quick waffle before calling it a night. Or when he and Lori would go for a Saturday morning date and eat all the bacon they could handle. Those were the best days of his life, and he'd had no idea.

His stomach began to growl in the quiet car, as he thought of all his favorite meals, and he looked over at Michonne to make sure it hadn't disturbed her. She answered his silent question by instructing him to eat.

"I brought plenty of granola bars," she told him softly. "You should have one."

He made a face at the thought of choking down granola when he really wanted a ribeye and a fried egg. "I'm all right," he declined.

"You haven't had anything but water since we left," she knew. "You should really eat."

He did as told and pulled out the bag she'd packed for their mission. There were a couple of books, some water, a can opener and a couple of cans of corn for them to share, and finally, the granola bars. He grabbed one for her as well, and set the backpack behind them again. With a sigh, he bit into his dinner, pretending it was something else. "I really miss the cheese grits," he said out loud, even though he wasn't sure whether Michonne was still awake. He wasn't above talking to himself.

Michonne opened one eye, hoping that he didn't think she was trying to engage in a conversation now. She wanted to sleep. Desperately. But he answered her question by continuing to talk.

"Two eggs, smothered hash browns, and a bowl of cheese grits. That was my favorite..."

"Are you serious right now?" she asked, craning her neck to look back at Rick.

"Did you ever eat here?" he wondered obliviously. "Probably not, since you lived in Atlanta. You had a hundred choices on every street."

She chuckled quietly to herself, remembering how she and Mike would eat at The Flying Biscuit every Sunday in the summertime, like clockwork. There was always a line wrapped around the building, but it was worth it. "Not since college, she admitted, turning so that she was on her back again. "But I do remember those being some good times."

"You went to… Spelman," he asked, hoping he'd remembered the name correctly. He'd overheard her talking to Carl about it a few weeks prior, and made it a point to keep it in the back of his mind.

She was impressed, and didn't hide it. "I did."

"And you majored in political science, with a minor in art history?"

"Anddd now you're starting to sound just a little bit like a stalker…"

He quietly laughed to himself, knowing that she was joking. "Not only do I see things, but I hear 'em, too."

She smiled up at him, glad that the two of them could share a bit of levity every now and then. Everything surrounding them was so dark, but she had begun to lighten up a bit when he or Carl came around. They allowed her to do something other than mourn for Andrea, and she appreciated that. "It doesn't seem like you've been seeing things as much lately," she knew. He'd been much more lucid ever since their road trip to King County.

"I haven't," he nodded, glancing over at her. "I don't know if it's just because we've been busy or what, but…"

She simply nodded. Whatever the reason was, she was relieved for him. She yawned once more as her sleepiness began to win the war against Rick's talkativeness. Her eyes began to close on their own.

Rick, however, still unaware that he was disturbing his companion, launched into more of his random queries. "What's your favorite season, Michonne?"

"Summer," she answered flatly.

"Why's that?"

"Because I like when the sun is out. I like the beach. I like being nearly naked. There's a freedom that comes with summer."

He swallowed hard at the thought of her being nearly naked, and closed his own eyes, imagining what that must have looked like. Her dark skin in some brightly-colored bikini, frolicking in the ocean. He then exhaled sharply, knowing he would never get to see such a thing. "I like winter," he returned after a long pause. "It makes me feel safe."

She was hesitant to ask him to go on – she really wanted to rest – but she also wanted to know more. "What, about winter, makes you feel safe?"

"I dunno, I guess because it's the opposite of summer. You're not free. You're wrapped up in coats and scarves, always trying to find your way inside. You find warmth in your loved ones… I dunno."

She liked his answer and grinned in response.

"Did you ever live anywhere else besides Atlanta?"

She opened her eyes again, realizing that he was just not going to stop talking if she didn't intervene. "What's up, Rick?"

He looked over at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Why are you refusing to let me sleep?" It was hard to believe this was the same guy that was practically silent all the way to King County. Of course, he didn't trust her at the time, and probably wouldn't have minded if she died. Even so, he was becoming quite the opposite of the reserved man she'd been expecting to be on the road with.

"Sorry," he replied with a nervous cough. "I thought you were… I dunno." He let out another sigh and stared out of the driver's side window to a couple of passing walkers. His hand instinctively went to the butt of his pistol. "I don't know what's gotten into me. My wife used to say I didn't talk enough."

She lightly scoffed at that idea, given how chatty he was being. But then, she wasn't exactly the outgoing person she used to be in the old world. People change. "My boyfriend used to say I talked too much," she admitted. She readjusted the back of her seat so that she was upright again. They both smiled at each other, laughing at how different they had become.

"Is it all right if I talk to you sometimes?" he wondered hopefully. He realized then that she was the only person he was comfortable with asking such a thing.

She nodded, looking down at the console, where she noticed he'd left a granola bar for her. "So long as it's all right if I'm silent with you sometimes."

He grinned in response. "Deal."

"Deal."

* * *

**A/N:** And we're off! Just a bit of a preview to show where we are (and where we've been) in the story. I have a feeling the rest of the chapters will be somewhat long, because they all contain flashbacks, but I'm still deciding on whether to make them separate chapters or not. What do you guys think?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Sooo... I really can't thank you guys enough for your feedback. It means a lot whenever anyone clicks on one of my stories, much less leaves a review, so I just want to say thank you to each and every one of you that did. Please know that you're the only reason I keep going. And all you guys' input on the chapters was super helpful and encouraging. Here's hoping I don't bore you to death, haha! severelybabykryptonite, I managed to do this entire chapter without Supercuts, just for you, so I hope you enjoy it. (But that will not last, lol.) And Ninaellen, I went to Spelman too; tell your sister she's awesome! And so are you! All of you are! I'm gonna stop babbling and let you read now! -Ashley

* * *

**Chapter 2  
****"You look like you've got something else you wanna say."**

_**8 months ago.**_

Michonne sat on her side of the table, eyeing Rick carefully, while he avoided her gaze at all costs and focused on his cards instead. The tension between the two of them was mounting, and everyone in the cafeteria could feel it. Carl sat on one side of Michonne, Maggie on the other, also examining her hand. She was holding a straight flush. No way was Rick beating that. But he was still holding out, and Michonne knew he must have had good reason for it.

"We should've put a timer on this," Daryl commented from Rick's side. He knew what Rick was holding, and couldn't understand what he was hesitating for. The chances of Michonne having a better hand were slim to none.

"All right," Rick sighed. "I'll see your Big Kat stash," he conceded, pushing his large collection of candy bars to the middle of the table to match hers. "And I raise you... an iPod."

Everyone gasped in surprise. Shit just got extremely real. iPods were a rare commodity at the prison – only two in the whole place. She knew he must've been holding something good. She looked over at Maggie and Carol to get their reactions. Maggie didn't seem quite so confident anymore, but Carol was glaring at Rick, trying to find his tell. Was his hand really that good, or was he trying to make her fold? She shook her head, advising Michonne not to give in.

She didn't want to fold, but she wasn't sure she had anything left to bet. "What do you think?" she asked, glancing at Carl.

He let out a heavy exhale, and shook his head too. He didn't know the game well enough to hand out advice, but he did know his dad. He wouldn't have bet big if he didn't have a good hand. "I don't think he's bluffing," he said honestly.

Michonne didn't think so either, and stared at Rick with a silly smirk on her face to relay as much. She really wanted to know what he was holding. "You know what?" She quickly decided she was going to double down. "Fuck it. I'll see your iPod with my DVD player. Movies, too."

"That's a raise," Carol coolly commented to the other side of the table. "You either match that, or you fold."

Rick glanced at Carol briefly, wondering who the hell asked for her input, but his eyes narrowed on Michonne. What was she holding over there? He was looking at a straight flush, and his high card was the Queen of Spades. He let out a low growl as he tried to figure out what to do. The only valuable thing he had left in his arsenal was his Colt Python, and he wasn't exactly keen on risking it. At the rate they were going, he would be betting Judith before too long. He began to shake his head.

"Don't do it," Tyreese instructed from beside Rick. "Do not fold, man."

Michonne bit at her bottom lip in anticipation of Rick saying something. Anything. She was fairly certain, at that point, that he probably had the winning hand, but he seemed scared to acknowledge it.

And then, confirming her suspicions, Rick threw down his cards and held his hands up in surrender. "I'm out."

As Michonne's side of the table happily celebrated her big win, she kept her eyes on Rick, a bit surprised at him for giving up. While she didn't know him terribly well, she had begun to learn a bit more each day, and his surrender didn't line up with the man she made him out to be. "So that's it, huh?" she asked him beneath the chatter from everyone else.

He shrugged as he began to collect the cards strewn about the table. "You win some, you lose some."

* * *

Late that night, Michonne was lying in bed, trying to find sleep, but it seemed intent on evading her. Her eyes popped open every five minutes or so, staring across the small cell at the iPod sitting on her desk. The iPod she'd supposedly won, but was certain had been unjustly given to her. The more time passed, the less okay she was with the ruse.

She quietly and swiftly hopped out of bed and headed three doors down, where Rick resided with Judith. Careful not to wake the younger Grimes, she softly tapped the wall of the cell and whispered for the older one. "Rick?"

He had been in and out of sleep for nearly thirty minutes himself, but heard the visitor loud and clear when she called. He sat up to rub his face and welcomed her inside as he moved to turn on his lamp. "I'm here," he returned quietly.

She knocked the sheet covering his doorway to the side and entered the room confidently. She stood in her pajamas - a tank top and a pair of leggings - staring at him in annoyance, holding her winnings. "Why did you do this?"

He looked over at her curiously, but all his thoughts came to a halt when he noticed how obviously naked she was beneath her white tank. He tried not to stare, but her perky breasts were a distraction, to say the least. He thought he might have even detected a nipple piercing hiding beneath the fabric, though he was apprehensive to look long enough to confirm it. He couldn't even focus on what she'd asked him. "What," he frowned.

"Why did you let me win," she whispered harshly. "And don't insult me by pretending you didn't."

"But I didn't."

"Rick..."

"I thought you had me!" he answered defensively. "That's how poker works, you know."

"And now you're gonna be condescending. Got it."

He slowly wiped at his face, confused by this turn in the tides. "I'm sorry, are you supposed to be mad at me?"

"Yes. You didn't play fair."

"Michonne, I didn't let you win."

"You're lying."

"How can I prove it to you?"

"You can't," she said, her gaze softening as she took a glance into Judith's crib, finally noticing that it was actually empty. "Where's the little one?" she asked in a normal tone now.

"I've got watch in a couple of hours," he replied hoarsely. "Carl's got her."

Michonne nodded, realizing that was also likely why he was fully dressed. She moved in closer to Rick since she knew they were alone. "So then now would be a good time for a rematch."

"I can go grab the cards," he agreed, taking a step back from her. He could see down her shirt, which was making it difficult for him to breathe. "I don't have anything left to bet," he appended, rubbing nervously at his chin.

She looked him up and down, practically undressing him with her eyes. He was always so buttoned up. So uptight. She thought of challenging him to a game of strip poker, but she was certain he wouldn't agree. He was flustered just having her stand there. "That's too bad."

He swallowed hard, in relief, and leaned against his desk, using it as a seat. "So I guess you'll just have to take my word for it."

She moved in close again, standing almost between his legs as she dropped his iPod beside him on the desk. She made sure to graze his upper thigh as she pulled her hand back. "That's yours."

"Michonne," he sighed. "You won it, fair an-"

"Don't say 'fair and square'," she shot back, cutting him off. "Let's not lie to each other."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she placed a finger over his lips to shush him. So he simply nodded in concurrence.

"I mean it, Rick. Maybe you think you're protecting me, but I'm a big girl. I can take it."

"I got it."

"Do you?"

"I do," he chuckled quietly, licking his lips. He wondered if it was considered a lie for him to keep to himself his desire to fuck her right there on that desk.

"You look like you've got something else you wanna say," she noted, seeing the way he was staring at her. He kept looking her up and down, as if he wanted to devour her.

"I've got a lot I wanna say," he answered honestly. "But I don't feel comfortable enough to actually say it."

She couldn't help but smile at his candor. "That's fair," she had to admit.

"it's honest..."

"It is."

She moved out of his personal space, allowing Rick to breathe normally again, and he continued to shamelessly check her out as she made her way over to his bed. He watched as she bent over to pick up his pillow, and it almost felt like she was purposely teasing him. "So now what?" he wondered once it seemed that she was comfortable.

"Now what," she repeated with an exasperated sigh, resting her head against the wall. "I guess we can sit here and keep flirting with each other."

He smiled in reply, relieved that she had recognized what they were doing as such. It wasn't just him imagining things. Maybe she even wanted to fuck him on that desk, too. "I think I'd be okay with that."

* * *

_**Present day.**_

Michonne was wide awake, much to her chagrin, as she laid in her makeshift bed, thinking about Alexandria. She had noticed the spot next to her on the floor was empty, but didn't think much of it until another five minutes passed and Rick still hadn't returned. She sat up, finding that her missing person was standing at the front window, staring out. He turned in the direction of the sound she made, but didn't speak. Neither did she. She simply got up to join him, quietly, so she didn't wake any of the others.

"Deanna hasn't given me a job yet," she declared once they were side-by-side.

"You want one?" he asked, looking over to her curiously.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Do you?"

"That's signing the papers. That's saying, 'Yes, this is how it is.'" He went back to staring outside, as if he were on watch. In his mind, he was always on watch.

"You afraid to do that?"

"Aren't you?"

"No," she shot back self-assuredly.

He was surprised by her reply, and paused for a moment to assess it. "So then why are we both awake?" When she didn't respond, he got his real answer. He looked out of the window one last time before letting her know, "I'm gonna take a walk." He lightly squeezed her shoulder, letting his fingers linger on her skin for just a few beats longer than necessary, which gave her a moment to think. Thinking of the last time he'd done it, the night Terminus fell.

"Rick, wait," she whispered out to him before he could disappear. He turned, waiting patiently for her to go on. "This is the kind of place we were hoping for when we went to Terminus," she reminded him. "Even though we didn't have much hope for it, somehow, we still made it here."

"The fight's over," he nodded, recalling what she said the day before. He still wasn't sure whether he necessarily believed it, but he got her point. "I get it."

"It's okay to be scared of this place," she continued. "We should be. But we should also give it a fair shot."

"I will," he nodded. "For you."

"For Carl and Judith."

"Everything I do is for them." He knew that she knew that already, which was why he felt the need to emphasize that this was for her. "But I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, Michonne."

She nodded, accepting his words as fact, while also releasing him from the conversation. "All right, go on. Be careful out there."

"Always am."

Rick made his way outside to the cool June evening, where the moon was full, and the sounds of nature were loud. He kept his eyes and ears peeled for anything and everything. Walkers, gunshots, any other odd weapon sounds, like maybe a chainsaw. He listened out for screaming or arguing. He listened out for silence. The sound of kids playing in the daytime had boded well for Alexandria, but there still should've been night noises. The prison was never exactly silent. Someone was always up and about.

He found himself a bit more at ease when he saw one of the neighbors taking their dog out to pee. Another couple had all their blinds drawn, lights on, as they watched some movie in their bedroom. He found that odd, but in a rather normal way, which made him chuckle. And then he continued down the street, towards the front of the community, where a voice intruded upon his exploration.

"You're Rick."

He looked up to the sound, where he found a man sitting on a dimly-lit porch, smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer. He peered at him, trying to place whether they'd met already, but knew they hadn't. "Yeah," he eventually answered, inwardly questioning where this was going.

"My wife cut your hair."

He was taken aback by the revelation that Jessie was married. She had mentioned nothing of the sort. But then, she did come off as quite 'housewivian,' so that made sense. "Yeah," Rick returned, more cautiously this time.

"Welcome to Alexandria…"

He wanted to frown at the 'welcome,' which was more vaguely threatening than friendly, but he nodded instead. He took that opportunity to head back home, having seen enough for one evening. His gut kept telling him that _something_ had to be wrong there, and now he'd gotten his first glimpse of it. A crack in the façade. A reason to stay on high alert.

As he crept back inside, he pulled off his jacket, and quickly made his way back to his spot on the floor, eager to tell Michonne about his walk. To tell her that Jessie was married, and her husband was one of those Governor types, that made threats while using harmless language to conceal his darkness. He wanted to warn her about the inevitability of these people showing their true colors.

But he laid back down, only to find Michonne was fast asleep. Blissfully lost in slumber, looking almost childlike in her innocence. He'd seen her this way many times before, and always enjoyed the moment, knowing she was at peace. He didn't want to wake her, and certainly not for the purpose of ruining her idea of this place. So he covered her with his blanket and laid back himself, hoping to find sleep as easily as she had.

* * *

The next day, Rick and Michonne found themselves standing in Deanna's living room, after breaking up a fairly rowdy argument between their own people – Glenn and Daryl – and the Alexandrians - Aiden and Nicholas. Deanna took that opportunity to finally give them jobs, and now, they were waiting on their uniforms. Michonne, however, was more concerned about the fact that Rick and Carl had obviously been outside the gates prior to the altercation.

She watched Rick take a seat on the couch and followed suit, sitting next to him so she could speak softly without being overheard. "Where were you?"

He glanced at her briefly, but decided to focus on his hands clasped in his lap instead. "Where was I when?"

With a sigh, she rolled her eyes, understanding that he was about to try and play dumb with her. "You and Carl just came in from outside the gates. Where did you go?"

He had gone to retrieve the gun he planted two days before, only find that it had been taken. Another strike against Alexandria. But he hadn't told Michonne about hiding the gun in the first place, so he was hesitant to tell her the whole story now. He wasn't sure she would understand. "Just went for a walk," he shrugged. "Needed to get out."

"And you took Carl without telling me?"

"I didn't," he shook his head in protest. "I wouldn't do that. He said he was following Enid and lost her. Just happened to run into me."

She found that curious, but also knew Carl was not above running off when he felt like it. Like father, like son, it seemed. "Enid, huh?"

"It's apparently pretty easy to get out of here," he mumbled upon hearing Deanna returning.

"All right, here we go," Deanna announced, toting two police uniforms for her two new constables. "I don't think the pants will fit either one of you, but the shirts ought to do nicely with some finagling."

Michonne popped up from the couch to take both of them. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," she smiled warmly.

She playfully threw the shirts at Rick and held up a jacket herself to get a look at what she was working with. "Do we have to wear these in summer?" she joked.

"I know you're used to long, hot Georgia summers, but trust me, you'll need these more often than not."

Rick chuckled as he watched Michonne tug at the fabric, remembering how she'd told him about making clothes for herself. She was going to have a field day with this. "So we start tomorrow?" he asked, managing to pull his gaze from Michonne's figure to look at Deanna.

"I'd appreciate it," she confirmed, glancing back and forth between the two of them. "I'll let you figure out who's doing patrol when and where, but please feel free to come to me if you need any input."

Rick and Michonne glanced at one another knowingly. She was the morning person, and he was more of a night shift kind of guy, so they knew that issue would be solved easily. "We'll let you know," Michonne smirked.

Rick hopped up from the couch to stand with his new partner in crime. "We should get going," he nodded, looking to her for approval. "It's almost dinner time."

"Ah yes," Deanna grinned happily. "Can't miss family dinner."

Michonne was amused by how fascinated Deanna was with them. Perhaps if she'd been through even a fraction of what they'd been through, she wouldn't be so amazed by their bond. But alas, Alexandria was all she knew, like most of the residents there. They would learn one day, if they were lucky.

The two of them continued out of Deanna's home and towards their own, just as the sun had begun to set over their community. It felt like one of those summer nights where you'd eat dinner on a patio and share drinks and laughs with your friends until there was nothing left to say. Michonne glanced over at Rick, to say as much, but she found him looking completely lost in thought.

"Are you all right?" she decided to ask when she noticed him practically glaring at Jessie's house.

"I'm fine," he frowned, shaking away his recollection of the night before. He still hadn't told Michonne, and decided as they left Deanna's, that he wasn't going to. He needed to know more about the place before he provoked her into hating it. "Just hungry, I think."

She'd seen Rick hungry before, in more ways than one. He seemed more distracted than anything, but she decided not to push the issue. He had already been more cooperative than she expected him to be, so she simply accepted his explanation and handed over one of the uniforms as they ascended the steps to their home. "I'll get dinner started if no one else has. You let me know how this fits."

"Well don't you two look like a cozy couple," Daryl gruffly announced from his permanent spot on the porch.

The two of them laughed off the observation as they headed inside, but Rick knew that Daryl was annoyed with them for accepting their positions as constables. "I'll be right back," he told his obstinate friend. "Don't go anywhere."

"The fuck am I gonna go?" he scoffed, watching them both disappear.

Michonne sauntered into the kitchen, where Rosita and Carol were pulling together some kind of casserole that smelled fairly awful. Carol was still dressed in her ridiculous getup as a clueless homemaker, which made Michonne innately roll her eyes. "Evening, ladies," she greeted them.

"Hey," Rosita returned cheerfully, stepping away from the oven.

Carol turned from the sink, watching as Michonne dropped her uniform to one of the kitchen chairs. "You've got your job, I see."

"So it seems," she sighed, joining the two ladies at the counter. "Can I help with anything?"

"I think we've got everything covered," Carol answered distractedly. She motioned for the closest cabinet, pulling out enough plates for the entire group. "Where's Rick?"

Michonne took a peek into the living room, where Carl and Noah were playing some card game with Eugene. "He's upstairs."

She continued to pull down glasses and cups, acting as though she wasn't more interested in this job situation than anything else. "You want some wine?"

"Sure," Michonne accepted, taking it upon herself to pull a bottle from the pantry. She loved having a pantry. And that there was wine in it. It was ridiculous, but little things like that made her smile now. She was just looking for shelter, but had somehow found a home. She poured a glass for herself, and then passed the bottle on to Rosita, while Carol continued to grill her.

"So is Deanna gonna let you two keep guns inside the walls?"

"While we're on duty, I believe," she nodded, taking a long sip from her glass. "We still have to turn them in at the end of the day."

Carol nodded. "You get to keep your sword anyway, so you're fine."

"You think we need weapons in here?"

"You think we don't?"

Michonne was thinking on the answer to that question when Carl came traipsing into the kitchen, hoping to get a glimpse of dinner, but also wanting steal his buddy away from her conversation. "Hey," he greeted Michonne, leaning against the counter in the identical manner that she was.

"What's up?" she grinned back at him.

"You busy?"

She frowned now, wondering what he was up to. She already had to talk to him about sneaking off outside the gates, but it sounded like he wanted to add something else to the list. "What's up, Carl?"

He glanced at Carol and Rosita, then moved in close to Michonne so that he wouldn't have to speak loudly. "Well. Eugene is supposed to be teaching us how to play poker…"

"He sucks!" Noah called out from the living room, causing the three women in kitchen to laugh heartily.

"He just not… the best teacher," Carl shook his head. "It's not him, it's us."

"That's not true!" Noah added, still several feet away from everyone. "He sucks!"

"Come help us?" His bright blue eyes plead with her for mercy. "I told Noah how you annihilated my dad that one time."

"Oh lord," she sighed, not wanting to revisit that hoax of a game. But she was happy to oblige, grabbing her wine glass before following him into the living room. "Come on, lemme show y'all a few things."

* * *

Rick felt a certain unease with having on a police uniform again. He thought he'd left that life behind a long time ago. Someone else's slide show, as Carol described it. He didn't know how to feel as he made his way down the steps of his home for everyone to see. Everything felt so foreign. New home, new job, new clothes. Was this what it was like to start over? He spent all this time adapting to the new world, becoming this perfect survivor, and now it was time to go back to the old one? How could that be?

Michonne's was the first face he saw. She was laughing with the kids, looking like she belonged there. Like she had never been anywhere else. He started to wonder how she did it so easily. He had to remind himself that it was because she needed this. She, too, was a perfect survivor, but she was tired. She couldn't be out there anymore. And so, he needed to let her enjoy what was in here.

He continued outside to where he knew Daryl would still be squatting. He was smoking a cigarette, looking back at Rick like a stranger. In fact, Daryl wasn't sure who any of these people were anymore. Not Rick, Not Carol, not Michonne. He felt like he was losing them to normalcy. The old days were new again.

"We good?" Rick greeted him, understanding what his friend must have been feeling. On some level, he felt like a stranger to himself.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "You a cop again?"

"Just trying it on for size," he shrugged, just as Carol came from one of the side doors to join the two of them.

Carol looked at them both. She knew Rick had been the one most opposed to Alexandria, so she wasn't sure what to make of him standing there in his constable uniform. "So we're staying?" she asked him.

"I think we can start sleeping in our own homes," he confirmed, nodding. "Settle in…"

"We get comfortable here, we let our guard down… This place is gonna make us weak."

"Carl said that," Rick revealed, recalling their conversation from the day before. "But it's not gonna happen. We won't get weak. That's not in us anymore." He glanced back into the house briefly, hoping he was right for what he was about to say. Right for not saying it to Michonne. "We'll make it work," he assured his friends. "If they can't make it, then we'll just take this place."

Back inside, Michonne took another sip from her second glass of wine as her gaze fell to the front door, wondering just what Rick, Daryl, and Carol could have been discussing. It wasn't like Rick to exclude her from a conversation – in fact, it was often only the two of them talking – so she felt a strange twinge in her chest when she saw she wasn't being included now.

Carl noticed that she was no longer concentrated on their lesson, but rather on his dad. "Michonne are you okay?"

"Yeah," she returned, refocusing on the task at hand. Rick would tell her when he was ready, she figured. That was their deal – they didn't lie to each other. "Everything's fine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3  
**"**You've got secrets?"**

Rick was careful to shut his bedroom door quietly, so as not to wake Carl and Judith, or any of his other slumbering housemates. Trying to move around silently was the reason he was late in the first place. It reminded him of the old days, and how he used to get dressed for work in the dark when he had early shifts, so that he didn't wake Lori. He hated that shit. But here he was, doing it again, tiptoeing downstairs as he threw on his jacket.

He even opened and closed his front door slowly and quietly, thankful that there was no alarm chime to sell him out. And just as he was about to turn and make a swift exit, his neighbor came walking by.

"Hey, Rick," Jessie called out to him loudly. Obliviously.

He instinctively looked back to the house, expecting to be caught right then and there. When he realized that was ridiculous, he turned back to her with a small smile. "Hey, Jessie," he answered softly, quickly moving down his front steps. "How's it goin'?"

"Can't complain," she shrugged, looking up to the overcast sky. She was toting a large bag, which Rick seemed to notice, so she went on, "Scraps for our owl sculpture."

"Ah, the one I ruined," he recalled with a bashful nod. He also remembered that when she cut his hair, he'd noticed she had a couple of tattoos of the bird, which he found curious, but never had the opportunity to mention. "You mind if I ask what's up with the owls?"

"It's just my thing," she shook her head, still grinning.

She had a face like a peach, Rick observed as they stood there. It reminded him of his home, causing him to smile back at her. "Your thing?"

"Yeah. You know, some people like dragons, some people are all about Italian culture... I'm into owls. The whole wise and mysterious thing," she nodded. "I dig it."

He nodded as well, though she didn't strike him as particularly mysterious. Then again, she had yet to mention that whole husband thing, so maybe he had misjudged her. "My wife was like that about ladybugs," he remembered fondly as he glanced down the empty street. His mind wandered to how she probably would've called Judith 'Ladybug' as a nickname if she'd gotten the chance. He had to shake his head to get those thoughts off of his mind.

"Ladybugs are awesome," Jessie agreed enthusiastically. "They're a messenger of promise, a reminder of the joy of living. Your wife had good taste," she grinned, lightly hitting his upper arm. "Obviously."

He chuckled at the obvious compliment as he glanced at his watch, and then up at his home. He couldn't believe he was still standing there after doing all that work to sneak out. "I should actually get goin'," he told his neighbor. "I had a shooting session with Carol. But maybe you can fill me in on the rest of the animal kingdom a little later," he joked.

"I wouldn't do that to you," she laughed back, shaking her head. "But yeah, sure, I'll see ya later."

With a sigh, Rick continued on to his destination, outside the gates, where he was supposed to have met Carol and Daryl nearly ten minutes ago. He arrived at the house where he'd planted his gun a few days prior, finding the two of them standing side-by-side, waiting for him.

"Sorry I'm late," he declared, approaching the duo. "Time got away from me."

Daryl shrugged it off, more confused about the fact that Michonne wasn't with him. "Surprised you didn't bring your wife," he retorted jokingly.

"That's very funny," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

Carol kept her focus on Rick for a long moment, wondering that same thing herself. It was rare to see him without Michonne, and especially when it came to matters that concerned the entire group. "Why didn't you?" she asked pointedly.

He shook his head, avoiding Carol's gaze as he replied, "There's no need to involve her yet."

Carol seemed to approve of his answer, while Daryl looked on a bit worried. "You sure about that?" he frowned.

Rick wasn't sure. In fact, he was fairly nervous about the idea. Michonne had been his right hand ever since they left the prison, and now he was essentially going out on a limb by himself. It was a strange and uncomfortable position for him. "It's for the best," he confirmed, placing his worries on the back burner. "Once we figure out what this is, I'll let her know."

Daryl wasn't too keen on the idea, and he could tell Rick wasn't either, but the sound of a walker grabbed all of their attention, so he let it go. It would be Rick's ass if she did find out, and he was fine with not getting in the middle of it. Instead, they continued with their secret plan to raid Alexandria's armory.

* * *

Back at the house, Michonne was sitting on her bed, altering her new constable uniform, while Maggie sat in the chair near her door, watching as she did. The two of them were girl-talking, as they sometimes did when they were back at the prison. They had mostly been chatting about the Alexandrians and how cute they thought Deanna's son Spencer was, but the conversation navigated through their own group, and how everyone was getting acclimated to their new home.

"I'm worried about Sasha," Maggie proclaimed softly. "It's like I know what she's goin' through, but… I know I don't," she shook her head. "Not when I have Glenn."

Michonne looked up at her and nodded, because she, too, understood what she was going through, and that there was probably nothing they could do for her. "I've been where she's been," she admitted. "I don't know what it's gonna take to bring her back, but… I don't know if it's any of us."

"She was already angry after Bob. With Tyreese, it's like… a switch just went off. Like she can't even feel anythin' anymore."

"And feeling it is the only way she's gonna get through it." Michonne remembered that moment when the dam broke for her. After the prison fell, after Hershel, and she was so intent on giving up and not feeling anything. It made her feel _everything_. "Maybe this is just her version of PTSD, and we just have to stand by her through it."

"Maybe so…" Maggie agreed gloomily. She watched as Michonne stood and pulled off her tank top to try on her new shirt, which she'd altered to a perfect fit. "Nicely done," she grinned up at her friend.

Michonne kind of hated it, but she smiled anyway. "You're too kind."

"You look good, Michonne."

"Please."

"You and Rick in your matchin' uniforms," she teased her playfully, her giant smile on full display. "That'll be a sight."

She couldn't help but chuckle, imagining it herself, but she needed to change the subject. It felt like she and Rick were always the topic at hand, even when they weren't. "So how's Glenn been doing since the fight yesterday?"

Maggie sighed and pulled her feet into the chair so that she was sitting cross-legged. "He's good, I think."

"You think?" Michonne asked with raised eyebrows.

"I mean, he didn't really wanna talk about it," she shrugged. And then another smile crept across her face as she glanced out of the door to make sure no one was coming. "But we talked seriously about somethin' else."

"Something else like what?" Michonne smiled back at her, immediately infected by the joy on her face.

"Like a baby," she whispered back. "Maybe."

Michonne gasped in glee for her friend, moving to shut the door so they could speak more freely. "Seriously?"

"We talked about what that could look like," she nodded happily. "A timeline. Having Carol and Rosita help with the delivery…"

"That's fantastic."

"It feels good to feel good about somethin'," she agreed. "I don't know… "

"What don't you know?"

"I mean, I just…" She glanced up at Michonne curiously. "It is a good idea, right?"

"Of course it is," she assured her seriously. "That's why we came here, Maggie. To make _lives_. What is this life worth if it's only about survival?"

Maggie nodded thoughtfully, thankful that someone else besides her and Glenn saw it that way. She didn't want to be planning her future based on a pipe dream. Still smiling at her friend, she wondered cautiously, "So… does this mean you and Rick have talked about startin' things up again?"

Michonne rolled her eyes playfully, accepting that the conversation would always come back to that. She just chuckled back and shook her head. "No."

"Why not? If we're gonna be_ living_ here, what's stoppin' you?"

"Maggie…"

"I'm just askin'."

"You're gonna have to get out if these are gonna be your questions."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

Michonne quickly picked up a pillow and threw it directly at Maggie's face, laughing when it hit her. "Protest that."

"All right, all right." Maggie stood from her chair, laughing as she surrendered to Michonne's obvious attempt at deflection. "Message received. I'm leavin'."

* * *

Not long after Maggie headed off to work, Michonne was standing in her mirror once more, examining herself in her full uniform. She had to make some fairly major alterations to the jacket, but it was good enough for their purposes. Just as she put the finishing touches on her outfit, Rick appeared in her room.

He couldn't help but check her out himself, getting a load of her in her ensemble, identical to his. Somehow, she managed to make a dull gray shirt the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He was so engrossed in her, he didn't even bother to greet her.

"I don't know if this is some kinda play," he started, referring to Deanna, "handing authority to strangers…"

"The authority to break up fist fights?" Michonne asked sarcastically.

"Well if it was just that, she should've given one of these to Daryl."

She shook her head, admitting that she was confused about Deanna's motives as well. "I dunno if it's for us or for them." Their eyes locked for a moment, Rick looking lost in thought as she spoke. "Or maybe Deanna's trying to get rid of 'us' and 'them.' You put these jackets on me and you, have the people see it. If that's the play, that'd be smart. And she seems smart."

"Smart for then or smart for now?" he returned, staring blankly at her bed.

"This _is_ now," she told him bluntly, demanding his gaze.

He looked back at her, feeling as though he'd made the right decision in excluding her from his plans with Daryl and Carol. They would be stealing guns from the armory, further impressing the mentality of 'us' versus 'them.' Michonne was planted firmly in the middle, between him and Deanna, and that was where he needed her to stay. It really was for the best, he was convincing himself.

"You know, it's weird standing here in your bedroom," he declared, desperately wanting to switch subjects before he blurted out the entire plan to her.

"Why is that weird?" she asked, sheathing her sword. "You practically lived in my cell back at the prison."

"I did, didn't I," he chuckled, calling back to those days. "I don't know, maybe because it's just odd for you to have a door. And a full bed."

"And more than five feet of space," she grinned, happy with the change herself. "I guess that is a little weird."

"Maybe once I start sneaking in here, it'll feel the same as it used to."

"Oh, is that your plan?" she replied, now suppressing a smile at the idea. "You think it's just gonna be the way it was?"

"Not quite the way it _was_," he allowed, "but it doesn't have to be so different. Right?"

She met him in her doorway, smirking at him and everything he was implying. She knew they didn't have time to discuss it any further, as they were supposed to be meeting with Deanna, so she just patted his arm and continued out the door. "Sure."

* * *

_**7 months ago.**_

Rick used his ring finger to lightly knock against the concrete wall of Michonne's cell, hoping to get her attention. It was nearly 4:00am, and he'd just returned from watch, but he wasn't ready to go to sleep yet. Michonne said she would wait up for him, and he hadn't been sure whether or not she was joking, but he was willing to try his luck.

After just a few seconds, she pulled her sheet back to let him into her room. "Hey," she greeted him groggily.

"You fell asleep on me?" he whispered, feigning disappointment. "I thought we had a deal."

"I thought it was clear that that was a joke," she chuckled back at him, climbing into her bed. The chill of November had taken its toll on the climate inside the prison, and she was not fond of it. "How was it out there in the cold?" she asked, referring to his watch in the guard tower.

"It could be worse," he shrugged, watching her curl up cozily under her comforter. He glanced around her dark room, trying to decide whether he was going to be annoying and take a seat, or leave her to her rest.

"You just gonna stand there?"

His blue eyes landed back on her, wondering what she wanted him to do. There had been a couple of nights where he fell asleep in her room, but he would either leave or she would kick him out once they realized what happened. "So what if I am?"

She rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn't see, and positioned herself so that he could have a space in her bed. "Get over here, weirdo."

"What was that?" he prodded, pretending he couldn't hear her whisper.

"It's too cold for these games, Rick."

He was actually quite happy to oblige her request, kicking off his boots and pulling off his jacket at the same time. He carefully climbed over her so that he could take the empty space she left for him, readjusting her extra blanket so that both of them were underneath it, as well as her comforter. And as much as Michonne tried to pretend she didn't want it, she was instantly comforted by, not only his warmth, but also, his company. She could really get used to this if she wasn't careful.

He sighed, reveling in the feel of her body close to his, even in the most platonic sense. This was precisely why he enjoyed winter. "So how was your day?"

She yawned, understanding that this would be one of those nights where he was feeling talkative, and she would have to just play along. "It was good, Rick."

"I know I just saw you a few hours ago, but we didn't discuss your day or anything…"

"It was good," she repeated.

"What was good about it?" he pressed. He turned from his back so that he was on his side, facing her. She had her back to him, but he just liked being able to see her.

Michonne groaned tiredly as she thought through her day and what was actually good about it. "Daryl gave me a map," she revealed happily. The three of them had many in-depth discussions about the best places to look for The Governor, and now they could officially plan their route. "He said he could be ready to leave in a couple of days."

Rick nodded against their pillow, already calculating how long he could be gone from the prison. "How far out are you plannin' to go?"

"On this trip, not too far," she said, hoping that meant he would come along again. "But I think I could get as far as Macon eventually."

"We're gonna have to find more gas while we're out there then."

"I know," she exhaled exasperatedly. It was one of the hardest things to come by, but one of the true essentials in the world now.

"Once we get further out into the country, it may be a little easier to find," he offered encouragingly.

Smiling, she turned her head back towards him, knowing he was just trying to be nice. "Yeah, right."

Brushing her long hair from his face, he continued with his line of questioning about her self-proclaimed good day. "So what else happened?"

"What else happened when?"

"To make your day good."

"Oh." She chuckled sleepily, recalling the rest of her evening. "Carl and I made ice cream."

"That's not funny." His stomach began to growl just thinking of the idea of having ice cream again.

"I'm serious."

"How?"

"Well, okay…" she quickly began to change her tune before he got too excited. "It was more like ice milk. But it was delicious."

"That sounds disgusting," he chuckled.

She smiled to herself at the vibration of his laughter against her back. "You wouldn't understand."

"Yeah, I get the feeling I don't want to…"

"So judgmental," she joked, shaking her head. "This is why we don't tell you our secrets."

"You've got secrets?"

"Me and Carl? Pshhh… we've got a million of 'em."

He lifted his head to try and get a look at her face, but only got an eyeful of her hair. "Like what?"

"If I told you, that wouldn't make them secrets anymore, would it?"

"I don't know how I feel about this," he yawned. "How long has this been goin' on?"

She felt bad for how much this amused her, but she couldn't help but quietly laugh at him. "You jealous?"

"Well yeah. Here I thought the three of us had a bond here, come to find out, you and Carl are leavin' me out."

"Oh, you giant baby," she mocked him playfully. "In that case, maybe I should go get Carl now, and we can explain to him why you're in here feeling me up."

He knew she was joking, as he hadn't touched her inappropriately at all, but boy did he want to. "Maybe we should wait 'til that actually happens," he replied in a whisper.

Rick's low southern twang in her ear gave her a quick chill, and she snuggled further into her thick comforter. "Can we go to sleep yet?"

"If you really want to, I guess," he sighed.

"That's generally what people do at four in the morning…"

"Sure," he chuckled suggestively.

"Oh, shut up," she giggled. She purposely scooted back a bit more so that he was practically spooning her. She could _really_ get used to this.

Silence fell over her small cell for quite a while as the two of them tried to fall asleep. Rick could hear the sounds of someone else laughing from somewhere in the cellblock. He couldn't place it off the top of his head, but imagined it was probably Maggie and Glenn. They seemed really intent on reminding everyone that they were newlyweds. He chuckled to himself, happy for their happiness as he moved in closer to Michonne. He was happy for his own happiness too, for that matter.

"Hey, can I tell you something kinda stupid," he requested quietly, hoping she hadn't fallen asleep yet.

"What," she answered flatly, knowing that he was probably going to tell her either way.

"Yesterday, when we were outside the walls… when that crowd of walkers ambushed us?"

"Yeah…"

"Well I stopped to watch you for a minute, and first of all, I'm sorry for that… but I was pretty sure you had it covered."

"Okay…"

"But also, have you ever seen Kill Bill?" he wondered.

She was so sleepy, he wasn't even making sense to her anymore. "What?"

"The Tarantino movie. Kill Bill. There's two of 'em."

"I've seen them," she frowned, "Yeah…"

"So when I was watching you decapitate these walkers, all I could think of was the scene where Beatrix Kiddo hacks off O-Ren Ishii's scalp, and now I can't get that out of my head whenever I see your sword."

She had to bury her face in her pillow to keep her outburst of laughter from waking up the entire cellblock. "Rick, what the hell?" she continued to chuckle softly.

He smiled at her reaction, glad that he decided to tell her. He loved seeing her laugh. "I hear the music and everything," he went on. "It's ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous," she agreed, turning her head back towards him again. "But I'll be honest. When I was learning to use the sword, a montage of scenes from that movie did go through my head."

"So you're just as ridiculous as me then."

"I wouldn't go that far…" she grinned, nestling into her pillow again, preparing to _finally_ fall asleep.

Rick, however, wasn't done with the conversation, it seemed, because he went on to ask her, "So it's all right if I call you Beatrix every now and then?"

"What?"

"The Bride?"

"Rick…"

"Black Mamba." He paused, glancing up at the ceiling as he considered how that might've sounded coming from him. "Is that offensive?"

She found herself in another fit of giggles, causing him to laugh as well, but they quickly shushed themselves before they could wake anyone. She loved and hated how easily he made her laugh. "Go to sleep," she told him amusedly. "I'm serious."

"All right, Kiddo."

She had to pretend she didn't like the nickname he'd given her, so she feigned indifference upon hearing it. "That's what you're settling on?"

"It is," he confirmed, rather satisfied with himself. "Now go to sleep."

"All right then." She smiled again when he protectively draped his arm over her, and before she knew it, his soft breathing told her that he had finally fallen asleep. Resting her hand over his, she looked across the small room where her katana sat on her desk. Now she wouldn't be able to look at it without thinking of Rick and that silly movie either. "I'm really glad you came by tonight," she whispered, figuring he wouldn't hear her in his slumber.

He had been drifting out of consciousness, but he was lucid enough to smile at the statement she'd made. "Me, too."

* * *

**A/N**: I should honestly be in bed right now, but I won't have time to update tomorrow, so I'm doing it now! This one wasn't super exciting, I know, but some necessary groundwork has been laid in both the past and present! Next chapter is the party we'd all like to "Forget." Should be… fun. Ha. Thank you so, so much for reading, guys! -Ash


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this! I'm also really happy you liked the interaction with Maggie and Michonne! I always wish they would show more of the relationships between Team Family. They've all spent so much time with each other, we should be more familiar with their dynamics. I remember in either Crossed or Coda, it was almost jarring to see Michonne and Maggie hug since they barely ever speak, but that's how it should be! So yeah, that was fun to write. I think I have a bit more of them squeezed into future a future chapter or two.

I was in such a rush the other night, I forgot to say, severelybabykryptonite, thank you so much for your comment about The Other Woman. That story is done though! I'll be honest, I loved the ending so much, I thought about a sequel, but I haven't come up with anything yet. I haven't totally ruled it out though.

charrrmed, I want you to know that your reviews give me life!  
Yari, I literally started this story just to get further into that Rick/Carol convo, as well as the whole "I'm still with you" thing that pretty much ruined my life, so yeah… that's coming for sure. I feel the same!  
And to the guest wondering how Rick and Michonne got to "You gonna stay a while," I am totally with you! I just love exploring what could've happened in those 8 months between S3 and S4 to get them to that point.

I have so much more to say, but I feel like this is way too much already. This chapter is... well, it just is. I tried my hardest to recontextualize Rick's actions at the party, but man it was hard. The writers really did a number on him, I tell ya. Hopefully, you can enjoy it anyway! -Ash

* * *

**Chapter 4  
**"**I was getting there..."**

_**6 months ago. **_

It was another late night for Rick and Michonne, as had become the norm for the past month or so. He would come into her cell and talk her ear off, or she would come into his, and they would just enjoy the silence. They had gotten into the habit of reading books together, though it drove Michonne just a little bit crazy that Rick was always just a second or two behind her, and she couldn't turn the page until he finished. They would share late night snacks while watching movies together, too. And on this particular night, they were lying in Rick's bed listening to his iPod.

Judith was asleep just a few feet away, so they kept their conversation to a minimum, but every now and then, a song would come up that triggered a memory, and they would share a story. When Green Day's "Good Riddance" played, Michonne told Rick of how it reminded her of graduating from high school. She couldn't remember if it was the class song, or just something everyone cried to on graduation day, but it conjured up so many memories of who she used to be. She was so happy back then. And she realized she was kind of happy then too, in a very different way. She was happy to no longer be sad.

Their playlist continued, and Rick fondly recalled how Stevie Wonder's "As" was playing when Carl was born. Lori insisted on having _Songs in the Key of Life_ on repeat while she was in labor, and it was his job to make sure it happened. And that was before iPods, so he had to lug a CD player into the hospital room with them, and listen to that album for nearly a day straight. The nurses assured him it was normal, but he felt like an idiot anyway. That was, until Carl appeared, and the moment was perfect. Carl was perfect.

Their listening session went on through Mary J. Blige and Hank Williams, Nas and Billie Holliday. Whoever they'd stolen that thing from had extensive taste, lucky for them. Music kept them endlessly entertained, taking them off to far away places without ever having to leave the room. It had this uncanny way of making them either forget everything, or remember it.

"Make sure you pack this before you go," Rick told Michonne between songs. She was leaving in the morning, on another one of her Governor hunts, and he wanted her to have the company of music on the road.

"No," she declined in a low whisper. "I'm gonna be gone at least a week or two. I don't wanna take it from you that long."

"I'm gonna be here. Surrounded by people," he reminded her. "You need company, too."

They had been lying next to one another, but she turned on her side so that she was facing him, and smiled. "Look at you being sweet."

He blushed in reply. If anything, he was sweet on her, but he didn't think that was something he ever hid. "Is that surprising?"

"Not surprising," she continued to grin. "I just wanted to acknowledge it. I appreciate it."

"Well you're welcome," he nodded. He also turned on his side so that they were face to face. "I hope you know I'm gonna miss you. A lot." The prison just wasn't the same when she was gone. It felt like… well, a prison. But when she was there, and he knew that his nights would end like this, it felt like home.

"I'm gonna miss you too," she admitted softly. She paused their music so they wouldn't have to speak over it. "It's just a couple of weeks."

"I know."

"Besides, you always make out like a bandit when I go on the road."

He smiled, conceding that she was right about that. She always came bearing gifts for him and Carl, be it food, clothing, entertainment – sometimes all three. "Well I'm certainly not gonna complain if you find any more Rice Krispy treats.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," she chuckled. With a yawn, she rested her hand beneath her face, and started the music again before closing her eyes. She was ready to fall asleep, right then and there. But after a few more minutes of pleasant silence, she heard Rick audibly sigh when The Beatles' "Yesterday" began to play. She looked up at him, wondering what beef he had with the song. "Skip?" she asked him.

He shook his head sullenly and closed his eyes. "I just haven't heard this song in a long time."

"Is that good, or… bad…"

"It just is," he returned quietly, his eyes still closed. "Lori loved this song."

"I see." She wasn't sure how to respond, as he rarely spoke to her about Lori unless it involved Carl. "It's a beautiful song."

He found himself holding back tears as he listened to the lyrics. "It's a reminder that I made a lot of mistakes."

She gazed at him sympathetically, studying his face in a way she never had before. She took in his long brown eyelashes and the curve of his lips, she shape of his nose, and the tiny mole beside it. She wished so badly that she could take away his pain. Little did she know, she already had. "We've all made mistakes, Rick."

"Yeah…" he exhaled again, holding the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep it together. He had been doing so well, and suddenly, he was being bombarded with memories of his wife. "I think not getting to say goodbye was the hardest part," he revealed, his voice hoarse from the lump in his throat. "We were on such bad terms at the time, but it felt like we were right there," he was explaining. "We had gotten through the worst of it, and we were so close to being able to put it back together when we found this place…"

Michonne closed her eyes as well, hating to know what he'd gone through. Hating that she'd gone through some of the same thing. Having someone snatched away is a pain you don't easily get over. How do you get closure then? She gently brushed a lock of his hair from his face and then let her hand rest on his cheek.

He inwardly smiled at the contact, thankful that she didn't think he was crazy. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't shown up." She had been the only thing to come along and take his mind off of Lori. And she wasn't just a distraction, like fortifying the prison, or a necessity, like taking care of his kids. She was something truly new. She came along and changed the conversation. "I feel… safe with you."

She was holding back tears now herself. What a lovely compliment. Her thumb softly rubbed the stubble on his cheek as she opened her eyes again. "I just understand," she whispered.

His eyes locked on her, getting lost in the richness of her chocolate irises. He looked so hard, he thought he could see her soul. He was staring and he didn't care. She ignited something in him that he didn't want to ignore anymore. "You do understand me, don't you?"

She gazed back at him and nodded, understanding exactly what he was trying to convey. She welcomed it. "I do."

He leaned in slowly, his heart racing as he realized what he was about to do. They were chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, and he softly pressed his lips to hers. Just a peck at first, because just that had taken his breath away. He rested his forehead against hers and licked his lips, taking in the taste of her. She smiled, feeling as though she'd gone right back to high school, experiencing her first kiss with her crush. She wanted more. She wanted him to consume her as though he was drowning and she was air. She wanted to devour him as though she could take this kiss with her when she left the next morning. So she cupped his face and kissed him hard so that they could do exactly that.

* * *

_**Present day.**_

_Yesterday  
__All my troubles seemed so far away  
__Now it looks as though they're here to stay  
__Oh, I believe in yesterday_

With a deep sigh, Michonne arrived to Deanna's lavish home – a place she had begun to feel comfortable – feeling inordinately displaced as she walked in. She was wearing a dress for the first time in ages, but it didn't feel right. Didn't look right. She and Maggie had gone through a number of options, neither of them especially drawn to anything their closets had to offer, and no time to alter anything to their liking. Maybe some makeup would've helped, but going through all the old, chalky, dried up eye shadows and lipsticks had become depressing. So she chose the least ill-fitting dress, and headed on over to the party. Deanna said there would be liquor, so perhaps some liquid courage would have her in Rick's bedroom by the end of the night, and he could pull off that god-awful dress. Then maybe the night wouldn't be a total waste.

Rick was the first person she spotted when she walked into the living room. He was at the food table with Judith, gathering an assortment of cheese and crackers for them to share. He smiled when he noticed her.

"Well look at you," he greeted her as she approached the father-daughter duo.

"Look at you," she grinned back. He looked very handsome in his Oxford shirt with his new haircut. Very much the way she imagined him to have looked in his old life.

"We tried to wait for you, but Carol thought we oughta show up sooner than later."

Michonne frowned slightly at the information. She had no expectations of him waiting for her, but found it odd for him to go on without her just because Carol said so. They had such a strange relationship. She knew he'd been harboring some guilt about the way he banished her from the prison, when the truth was, he had been right. And after saving her from Grady, he didn't owe her anything anymore. "Carol, huh?"

He detected an odd tone in her voice and looked up from feeding Judith. "There's nothin' going on between us, you know."

She snorted in amusement, letting him know that the thought never once crossed her mind. "No shit, Rick."

"I figured I'd let you know, just in case you were getting jealous," he joked.

"How thoughtful," she smirked, filling her small plate with hors d'oeuvres. Her eyes fell to Judy, who looked so cute in the outfit she'd picked out for her, it was almost unbearable. "Have you mingled with anything other than the food yet?" she asked, looking up to Rick.

"I was getting there…"

"Uh huh."

"Judy was hungry," he defended with a dorky smile. "I was gonna."

She immediately put down her plate to take the baby from his arms. She didn't want him to have any more excuses not to give this place a real try. "Go," she instructed him seriously. "Talk to people you don't know."

"But-."

"Have a drink. Be charming. Have _fun._"

He was hesitant to go off on his own, having to pretend to be a normal member of society again. He wasn't even sure if he knew how to be charming anymore. And that's if he ever was. Lori was always the better half in their relationship. The outgoing one. The type that could stand and talk to anyone for hours. He just didn't have that in him. And people joked about Michonne being his wife, but the truth of the matter was, he really felt as though he was floundering without her. She was his anchor, and here he was, going off on his own.

_Suddenly  
__I'm not half the man I used to be  
__There's a shadow hanging over me  
__Oh, yesterday came suddenly_

He spoke with Deanna's husband, Reg, briefly, about what great men they both apparently were. But Rick's nerves were obviously on edge. He was in this house full of strangers, with some of his family intermixed, and all he could think about was how he was lying to them all. Him and Carol and their plan to steal weapons. He was taking advantage of everyone's need to feel normal. When Reg offered him a drink, it was his first instinct to decline, but the truth was, he needed it. He needed to chill out, and liquor was the best way to get him there quickly.

Meanwhile, Michonne went around the party, introducing herself and Judith to everyone she didn't recognize. She called herself a co-constable, and informed them that Judith was her deputy. She listened to story after story of people's mundane lives. They had no adventurous tales to tell, like her and the rest of her group, but they obviously found themselves fascinating for being able to exist inside those walls. It would have been tragic if it weren't so damn laughable.

"Michonne, what's your favorite meal, sweetie?" Their neighbor, Cynthia, was making her rounds and asking all the new arrivals this very question, and all of them had the same reaction.

"What?" she retorted, obviously taken aback by its randomness.

"I'm making everyone's favorite meal," she explained, obviously very proud of herself. "Just a sort of welcome kinda thing for you and your group."

"Oh…" She found herself frowning, unsure of the answer to that question. She had spent so long eating to survive, the idea of eating something she actually wanted sounded implausible. "I honestly don't know."

"Anything you want. I'll figure out how to get it for you."

She wondered to herself how this lady thought she was going to come up with veal piccata, but decided to just keep it simple. "I love waffles," she grinned at Cynthia and then at Judith. That was actually Carl's favorite meal, but who was keeping track?

"That's so funny," Cindy chuckled, pointing towards where Rick was standing. "Rick said the same thing. Blueberry waffles. You guys have got to be more creative than this."

Michonne turned in his direction, wanting to be playfully mad at him for stealing her answer. But she found herself legitimately annoyed when she saw him and Carol in a corner whispering to one another, yet again. It was quickly becoming a thing that irritated her on sight. What the hell were they up to?

Without warning, she excused herself from her chat with Cynthia, and headed for the two of them. "It's a party," she declared, approaching them with a tense smile. "Why are we standing over here?"

Without missing a beat, Carol replied, "I was just telling Rick I don't think I brought enough cookies." She shook her head, pretending to be distraught by the ordeal. "They all seem to have disappeared."

Michonne didn't even bother entertaining Carol's reply, but looked at Rick, wondering if _he_ expected her to actually buy this load of bullshit. But he just stared blankly at the rest of the party, obviously avoiding her gaze, and she realized he wasn't going to interject. "Okay then," she nodded. "Got it." She had no designs on staying where she wasn't wanted, so she and Judith retreated from Rick and Carol's secret session to go join their other friends.

Carol sighed as their friend walked away, knowing she probably didn't believe a word she'd said. "Has she started asking questions yet?"

"Not yet," Rick returned quietly. He watched as she moved across the room and he felt his hands begin to tremble. "But she will."

"And what will you say?"

"I don't know yet." He sighed nervously, looking down into his empty glass, realizing that he could really use another drink. "I'll figure it out," he promised.

Carol glanced at him sideways, but was too busy studying the guests to press him on it. She trusted Rick to do what he needed to do. It was then that she spotted Olivia, the guard of both the pantry and the armory, and knew it was time to put their plan into action. "Look, she's here," she mumbled to Rick, "which means it's empty, so… "

"I'll go with you," Rick offered. More than anything, he was just ready to go.

"No," Carol declined, discreetly passing behind him so that she could disappear. "Remember…"

"You're invisible," he answered knowingly.

He was going to take that opportunity to find some more liquor, but Jessie had spotted him, and wanted him to meet her husband, for some reason. Something about their relationship was so odd to him. She told her husband that she cut his hair, but her husband never mentioned that they'd spoken already? They obviously had some weird communication issues. But then, who was he to talk?

"Good to meet you," Pete smiled warmly as he shook Rick's hand. A giant contrast from the ominous man on the porch his first night there. "Wanted to thank you for taking on being our constable. We keep growing at this rate, we're gonna need even more."

"Hope so," Rick nodded, looking down. He already hated this guy.

"You wanna come by my office next week, I'll take a look at ya…" Rick only stared at him vacantly, wondering that the fuck he was talking about. "And I probably should've said I was a doctor first," he went on, realizing his mistake.

Jessie laughed, gazing back and forth between Rick and her husband. "I think it sounded nice either way."

Rick glanced at her peculiarly, wondering if that sounded as flirtatious to her husband as it did to him. But neither of them seemed to notice, so he shook it off.

"I'm going to get us a refill," Pete said, already taking Rick's empty glass from him.

"Oh, I can do it," Jessie offered.

"I'm on it," he snapped back inexplicably.

Rick took note of it, but didn't say anything. Another crack in the façade, courtesy of Pete Anderson. That man simply could not stop himself from being an asshole, it seemed. He realized maybe Jessie never mentioned her husband because things weren't going so well at home. He understood that feeling well, being stuck with someone you loved but didn't like, and still having to put on the show. He smiled at her awkwardly, already feeling bad for her. She didn't ask for his sympathy, and maybe it was more about feeling sorry for himself than anything, but either way, she had it.

* * *

Michonne was sitting on the couch with Judith asleep across her lap, surrounded by friends. Glenn and Maggie, Noah, Abraham and Rosita, Tara, Eugene. Sasha was noticeably absent, and so was Daryl, and she made a mental note to talk to them later. But she made a promise to herself that she would enjoy the party with the ones that were there.

"You looked like you could use another one of these," Glenn said, handing her a Solo cup full of vodka and cranberry juice. He also gave one to Maggie, sitting on the arm of the couch, beside Michonne.

"I was about to say, I don't think you should be drinking so much," Michonne grinned, happily accepting the cocktail from him. "Don't you have an early morning tomorrow?"

"We do," Noah piped up, playfully eyeing Glenn. "I'm watching you, man."

"I'm not even drinking!" he defended himself loudly.

"Well you can't take a sip from my cup every three minutes and claim not to be drinking," Maggie joked, smiling at him.

"You're supposed to be on my side, you know."

"We just know that your crew is already a hot ass mess," Michonne inserted, chuckling at them. "Last thing they need is for you to be hung over."

"I'll be fine," he promised everyone, shaking his head at the pile-on. "Me, hung over, is still head and shoulders above Nicholas and Aiden at a hundred percent."

"I will drink to that," Tara held up her own cup, rolling her eyes at just the thought of going anywhere with those two dickheads again. "Which reminds me, I'm pretty sure we have an opening on our crew. Anyone not an asshole is welcome."

Everyone laughed in reply, but Maggie wanted to remind them that her man had it covered. "Y'all don't have anythin' to worry about. Glenn won't have any problem knockin' those two on their asses again." She offered him a quick peck on the lips as she gazed at him lovingly.

"Damn right," Glenn proudly agreed.

Tara could only shake her head at just how adorable the two of them were. "Ugh, just have a baby already," she pled jokingly.

Michonne smirked over at Maggie, knowing that that discussion was truly on the table for her and Glenn, but she kept her mouth shut and laughed with everyone else.

"I'm serious!" Tara went on, softly running her fingers through Judith's hair. "Judy Bloom is gonna need someone to play with soon."

"Well don't pin all your hopes on us," Glenn frowned. "Rosita and Abe are right here."

"Nope," Rosita immediately jumped in to defend herself. "We are definitely not there yet."

Abraham looked back at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Is that so?"

"Don't fuckin' play, Abraham. We weren't even speaking a week ago."

"No, you're right," he smirked, taking a swig from his beer. "But you didn't have to sound so goddamn resolute about it."

"So in conclusion," Noah continued with the actual topic, "Glenn and Maggie are our only hope for another baby."

"Unless someone else decides to get together…" Maggie began to discreetly nudge Michonne.

She purposely ignored her friend's attempts to bring her and Rick into the conversation. Most of the people sitting there weren't even familiar with just how close she and Rick were. "Can we change the subject?" Michonne chuckled. "I think Judith quite likes being the baby in the family."

"Hey, you know what's weird," Tara noted, glancing across the room, and then over at Michonne. "What are you and Rick doing apart? That never happens."

Michonne had been doing her best to ignore Rick, and it had been fairly easy for most of the night, as she was engaged with something other than him for once. But once she spotted him, smiling like a buffoon at their neighbor Jessie, she found herself aggravated. Not only because that was the smile he saved for her, but because what the fuck was he smiling about? First, it was him and Carol, and now this.

"Hold this?" she requested of Tara, handing over her drink. She looked up at Maggie and pointed down to Judith. "Can you take her for a few minutes?"

Maggie nodded and carefully began to pull the sleeping infant from her friend's lap. "Everythin' okay?"

"I just need some air," she nodded. "It's stuffy in here."

* * *

"I bet your wife would be proud to see you now, huh?"

Rick nearly choked on his drink as he turned to Jessie's question, feeling almost attacked by it. What would she know about Lori or her feelings? "I beg your pardon?"

"You said your wife wanted a place like this for you," she remembered from their very first conversation. "She would be glad to know you made it."

He swallowed hard, feeling uneasy about discussing Lori. It was weird, he rarely thought about her before they arrived to Alexandria, but whenever he was around Jessie, she was all he could think about. It was as though he felt guilty for finding this place without her. "I suppose she would be…"

"You suppose?" she pressed.

"I mean… I know you wouldn't know this about me," he allowed, being that he'd openly discussed her more than once with Jessie, "but I don't really… talk about Lori very often."

"Oh shit." She put her hand over her mouth, mortified for being so insensitve. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine," he tried to smile reassuringly. "I just… for Carl's sake, I guess. For my sake, maybe."

"I don't know why I figured it was just open season because you mentioned her that first day. I didn't even think about how recent it must have been, since you have Judith, and… god, please forgive me."

"It really is fine. Of course you wouldn't know."

"I'm such an asshole," she shook her head and held up her hand, stamped with a bright red A. "That's what mine stands for."

He smiled genuinely at her self-deprecation, but placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The one decorated with its own scarlet letter. "It's fine. It's me, honestly. I never really grieved for her the right way, and now I'm paying the price for it."

Her eyes narrowed on him, wanting to probe him for more information. How could he be standing there, so strong and reasonably happy, without processing his wife's death? She needed to know his secrets.

"It was just one tragedy after the other," he said, answering her question for her. "And then something good came into my life," he recalled, secretly referring to Michonne, "so I just went with that. Because I needed something good. But the biggest thing that ever happened to me, I never... I never had time to feel sad about it."

_Why she had to go, I don't know  
__She wouldn't say  
__I said something wrong  
__Now I long for yesterday_

"And you feel sad now?" Jessie wondered, genuinely hoping that he didn't.

"I don't know what I feel now," he chuckled. "I feel like I've been airlifted out of the world I know, and I'm just floating through some ethereal space. None of this feels real."

"It is real," she promised him softly. "Your family is right there. They're all here."

He glanced at his group, finding several of them drinking and laughing together. But they weren't all there. Michonne had disappeared. Where was she? He felt his hands shaking again, and he quickly took another sip of his drink to calm down. Maybe this wasn't real. Maybe he was in Inception, and Michonne was his totem. "I know I sound fucking crazy right now," he laughed, hoping to hide his pain. "I'm sorry, ignore me."

"No, it's nice to hear you talk," she grinned. "Pete never talks."

Well that sounded familiar. He wasn't even sure why he was talking now. He generally saved that side of him for Michonne. But there it was – he couldn't talk to Michonne now. Not with the secret he had looming over him. Maybe he just needed an outlet. "I wasn't good at talking… before," he admitted. "I was kind of an asshole myself."

"I find that hard to believe," she returned warmly. "Take it from the expert. You're no asshole, Rick."

"Well thank you."

"No, thank you," she said, deliberately looking him in the eye. "You guys being here... Having a constable to look out for us… you guys might actually fix this place."

He gazed back at her, confused by what she meant by that. What could need fixing at perfect Alexandria? "What do you mean?"

She shook her head, obviously not wanting to delve too deeply into it. "I mean we're not strong is all. And having people like you here, it'll help."

He nodded in reply. He relished the idea of being able to fix something. To do what he couldn't with The Governor, with Beth… with Lori. "We will fix it," he promised softly. "I'll make it right."

* * *

_Yesterday  
__Love was such an easy game to play  
__Now I need a place to hide away  
__Oh, I believe in yesterday_

Nearly an hour passed and Michonne was still outside, enjoying the serenity of being alone with her thoughts. Her annoyance with Rick had lessened considerably, thanks to a bit more vodka and some time to clear her head. She figured she was probably overreacting, and maybe even feeling a bit possessive, when the reality was, she had no right to. He could do what he wanted with Carol. And even Jessie, for that matter. So long as he wasn't affecting their place in Alexandria, she told herself she wasn't going to worry about it.

As she finished off her last pitiful potato puff, she took a look at the sword-shaped pick that had garnished it, and she couldn't help but think of Rick. Him and that stupid nickname he'd given her all those months ago. And just like that, it was impossible to pretend that she didn't care what was happening with him. She told Maggie that it was important for her and Glenn to make a real life there at Alexandria, but what about her own?

"You packin' different steel nowadays?"

The voice that had interrupted her thoughts was Abraham's, and she chuckled at him, thankful for the intrusion. "Yeah…"

"Live by it, you die by it. You eat potato puffs by it," he smiled drunkenly. "Pray to god you don't have to use it again. Pray to god you don't get used to _not_ using it again. It's on your back, even when it's off your back."

Michonne was struck by his words until she looked at him and realized he was three sheets to the wind. Not that she was completely sober herself. "How much have you had to drink?"

They both chuckled in reply, and he nodded, knowing that he'd had his fair share. "I am a large man. And I have had many beers to make up for that."

"Ah…"

"You know what?" he went on. "By that brave act, I have… I have come to realize that things have worked out pretty damn well for me."

She looked at him, gazed back into the party, and then back out to the courtyard, wondering if she could say the same for herself.

"How 'bout you," he asked, reading her mind. "What have you _done_?"

She knew she had been trying. Making a real effort. She showed up, because that was what she always did. And she talked to people she had no interest in, about things she had no interest in. She was trying. "I put on this dress," she offered.

He gazed at her, understanding the weight of that. But showing up to a party wasn't enough, and they both knew it. "Try again," he told her.

She knew exactly what that meant. It was time to answer the question: What was her _life_ going to be at Alexandria?

"We should go back inside," she suggested, knowing she had been gone for much too long.

"That's a start."

* * *

Michonne found Rick, standing near the window, not far from where he'd been for most of the night, still nursing a glass of what looked to be whiskey. "You ready to tell me why you've been acting so weird?" she asked, pulling his focus from the window.

He turned to the sound of her voice, instantly feeling better the second she was close. He felt like he was back on solid ground. He sat his glass on the table and leaned against the windowsill. "What makes you say I've been actin' weird?"

"You and Carol… it's obvious that _something_ is going on, and it doesn't have shit to do with cookies."

He shook his head, not wanting to lie to her. But if he was going to fix it, he would have to. "Just tryin' to get acclimated to all this, I think."

She knew that if it were that simple, he wouldn't have been acting the way he was. Or drinking the way he was. "If you say so…" She turned to leave him be, but he didn't want her to go. He was sick of being away from her.

"Where've you been all night?"

"The exact same place you've been all night," she quipped.

Even in his inebriated state, he detected the irritation in her voice. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied.

There was definitely something strange happening, and he couldn't put his finger on it, but he desperately wanted to. He softly gripped her arm and pulled her towards him so they could speak quietly. "What's up?"

She chuckled, unsure of what to say. She didn't know what was up with her, if she were being honest. There was just something about him that had begun to rub her the wrong way. "What's up with you?"

"Nothin'," he answered goofily, shaking his head.

"All right then." She began to pull away, but he still wouldn't let go. "Rick…"

"Let's have fun tonight," he leaned in close to her to whisper.

"I already had fun," she retorted. "And it looks like you did, too."

"Let's have more," he suggested hopefully, snaking his arm around her waist, his hand spanning the small of her back. "I've missed you, Kiddo."

She avoided his gaze, both nervous about other people seeing them like this, and annoyed with him for being so unpredictable. He certainly didn't seem to be missing her when he was flirting with married women. "I'm right here," she said flatly.

"No, I've _missed_ you," he repeated, drunkenly staring down at her modest cleavage.

She knew what he was getting at, and if he'd showed this interest any earlier in the night, they probably would've been fucking in the bathroom by then. But as the evening progressed, it became clear that they were not in that place again. Not even close. "You'll have to keep missing me then, because I'm going home."

"I live there too, you know."

"I'm going to bed," she added, finally pulling away from him.

He studied as she walked off towards the door, her dress moving to the sway of her hips. "Can I come with you?" he called after her.

"No."

Disappointed, he grabbed his drink from the table and turned back to the window to watch her leave.

_Why she had to go, I don't know  
__She wouldn't say  
__I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday_

* * *

**A/N:** Just in case anyone is wondering, the Jessie kiss still happens, basically right after Michonne leaves. I would've written it, but it was just so stupid. And this chapter is already ridiculously long, so… yeah. -Ash


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Well we got through the party! You guys are all just so encouraging and awesome, and thank you for reading that, because I know it was painful, haha. But I really did want to show that Rick is not himself away from Michonne, because I do believe that's what the writers were trying to tell me. Why else have Michonne standing outside in that horrible dress? I mean, just... why. And I feel that Jessie is fairly harmless, albeit a bit annoying, so I didn't want to write her as villainous, but definitely a little thirsty. And Rick is in need of something to hold onto because he can't hold onto Michonne right now. So indeed, we've got ourselves a bit of a hot mess.

It continues in this chapter, but hopefully you can enjoy the flashback! ;-) -Ash

* * *

**Chapter 5  
**"**No, really. We're good."**

_**Present day.**_

"Michonne?"

There was a knock at the door, stirring Michonne from her slumber. Slowly, she regained cognizance, glancing at the clock on her nightstand to find it blank. She wondered if she unplugged it by accident. Her eyes darted up to the window, and she could tell by the sun that it had to be close to 8:00am. "Shit," she whispered to herself.

The knock came again, and she quickly hopped out of bed to answer. Knowing that it was Carl, she threw a robe on over her nightshirt on her way to the door. "I'm coming," she answered him groggily.

She pulled the door open to see her buddy staring back at her, looking just as disheveled as she felt. "Hey," he yawned.

"Hey, Carl." She frowned, wondering what he was doing at her door instead of being dressed and headed to class. "Everything okay?"

"Power's out," he informed her with a roll of his bright blue eyes. "Dad said to ask you for breakfast."

"He did, did he?" She peered into the hallway towards Rick's room, wondering just what the hell he was so busy doing that he couldn't handle breakfast himself. "By any chance, he tell you the actual time?"

"Twenty minutes to eight," he shrugged. "He said everyone's probably gonna be late, the power is out everywhere."

She grabbed his shoulders and turned him back towards his own room. "Go get dressed. I'll have something for you by the time you're done."

"Thanks, Michonne," he nodded, following her instructions. "If I had to have another banana for breakfast, I was gonna throw up."

She smirked at his comment, but didn't like the statement he was making. Three weeks at Alexandria, and he was already spoiled. "A month ago, you would've killed for a banana," she reminded him. "Don't take this for granted."

He stopped to look at her, knowing that she was right. Having a home again was a big deal. "I won't," he promised.

She nodded, releasing him from the conversation, and headed downstairs to get started on some oatmeal for him and Judith. She sleepily trudged into her kitchen, stunned to find Jessie Anderson sitting at the table with Rick's daughter. It was jarring, to say the least, seeing this strange woman with the littlest member of her family. Maybe Rick had no issue letting her into his life with no questions asked, but Michonne wasn't there yet. She needed a backstory, including a mental evaluation, and definitive proof that she could protect herself if a walker showed up in that kitchen.

"Hey," she greeted her neighbor cautiously, glancing around looking for Rick or Carol.

Jessie looked over to Michonne, sending a cheerful smile her way. "Hey."

She watched as this lady fed applesauce to Judith, realizing that her fists were clenched as she looked on. She was in disbelief that this was actually happening. "Is… Rick here?" she decided to ask. Maybe he had to leave for some emergency, and that was why this woman was sitting in her kitchen. She could accept that.

"Yeah, he's upstairs," Jessie nodded, obliviously continuing to feed the happy baby. "He should be back down any minute now."

"Okay," Michonne exhaled heavily. "Well in that case, I can handle this." She walked over to the table and smiled down at Judith, who was already reaching up for the woman she spent most of her time with. "I was just about to make some breakfast, so…"

"Oh, well you can go on, and I can keep feeding Judy," she offered. "I don't mind at all."

Michonne wanted to correct her, and tell her that her name was _Judith_ to strangers, but ever the cool, calm, collected one, she just smiled and insisted on her leaving. "No, really. We're good."

Jessie's smile fell, understanding that Michonne obviously didn't want her in her house. She nodded and quickly stood from the table. "Can you tell Rick I'm at home?"

"Of course," she returned, positioning Judith on her hip. "I'll send him right over."

"Thanks." She offered a closed-mouth grin to the two ladies before turning to leave.

Michonne held a smile for as long as she could, but instantly sent a glare upwards towards Rick's room the second his little friend was out of sight. "Your daddy's an idiot," she quietly told Judith, heading towards the pantry to start on breakfast.

* * *

Rick tiredly walked back into his home after a long morning of patrolling the neighborhood. He'd been asking the neighbors about Jessie's mysteriously broken owl statue, but had come up empty. Something else he couldn't fix.

The house was so quiet when he walked in, he wondered if anyone was home. "Hello?" he called out.

"Yeah," Carol called back from upstairs.

"Just seein' if anyone was here..."

"I'm here," Michonne answered from the kitchen. Her voice was low, as if she was trying not to disturb anyone.

He sauntered into the kitchen to join her, finding Judith draped over her shoulder, fast asleep. She put a finger over her mouth to signal that he should keep quiet. "I _just_ got her to sleep," she whispered.

He nodded, taking in the sight of his two girls. They were so comfortable together, like mother and daughter. Not some strange mirage of a past life, but actual mother and daughter. He smiled softly at the two of them.

Michonne noticed him staring, and it made her uneasy. They hadn't been on the best of terms since Deanna's party a couple of weeks prior. They were still friends, of course, but the ease they shared seemed to be slowly dissipating. "Stop looking at me like that," she demanded quietly.

"Sorry." His eyes flitted downward and he took a few steps toward them, avoiding her gaze now. "I'll take her," he offered, knowing that she had to head to work.

"You can only have her if you're not gonna pass her off to some stranger."

He frowned at her curiously, unsure of what she meant by that, but a knock at the door interrupted them. "Hold that thought," he said, heading toward the foyer, where he found Pete Anderson hovering at their front door.

"Hey, Rick," Pete greeted him as soon as the door swung open. He held up two beer bottles as he boldly let himself in. "Was having a beer, thought I'd bring you one. For helping my wife today."

"I'm good," Rick declined, knowing he'd have Judith for the afternoon. "But thank you."

"Oh come on. Don't tell me you're still on duty."

"Kinda always am," he nodded. He wanted to tell the guy that maybe he should take note, being the town's only doctor and all. "You know..."

"Not at Deanna's party," Pete chuckled derisively as he walked further into the house. "I saw you."

Rick's mind began to race, recalling the night of the party and how recklessly he'd acted. Kissing Jessie certainly wasn't his finest moment, and he'd hoped no one saw – most certainly not her husband. He was prepared to explain how he hadn't been thinking straight. He'd had too much to drink. Was feeling off, if not a bit vulnerable. He was prepared to apologize, if need be. Even if he did hate Pete, he knew it was wrong, in retrospect.

But Pete went on talking about alcohol. "You had some, right?" Of course he wasn't concerned about his wife.

He smiled back at him tensely, but in the back of his mind, he just imagined punching the dude repeatedly. He wasn't used to having to tolerate such a sad excuse for a person. He was used to killing them. He needed to change the subject. "I'm sorry I couldn't help out more today," he said, referring to Jessie's broken owl mystery. "I asked around, but nobody saw or heard anything."

"Well… it was just an owl," Pete returned dismissively. "In the grand scheme of things, I think we'll live."

Rick chuckled in disbelief at how little he obviously cared about Jessie's feelings. "Yeah…"

"I'm sorry," he submitted, noticing Rick's wedding ring. "I heard you lost your wife."

Rick was taken aback by the non sequitur and only nodded in response to Pete's fake sympathy. He wondered if Jessie ever talked to Pete about anything besides him. The guy knew everything about Rick, when they'd only actually shared a few words in passing. It was unnerving, to say the least.

"You know, I'm sure it looks like we haven't lost much," Pete went on, "but we have. We've lost things. Other things, we're just fighting like hell to hold onto. Everything you people have been through, I don't know if you see that."

"We do," he assured him, staring him in the eye. Rick saw right through him, in fact.

He chuckled as he took another sip from one of his two beers. "Bring your kids in for a checkup," he suggested. "I know I offered you one, but they really should come in. They were out there a while, right?"

The last thing in the world Rick was going to do was bring his kids to the drunken doctor. "Yeah… Thanks, Pete."

He then approached Rick with an inebriated smirk on his face. "Let's be friends, man." The look in his eye said he wanted to be anything but. "We kinda have to be, right?"

"Yeah, we do," he nodded, taking a step back from his hovering neighbor.

"So we will." Pete offered his hand and Rick reluctantly shook it, wishing he could rip it off. "I'll see you, Rick." He gave him a harsh pat on the shoulder as he headed out of the door.

As Pete finally left their home, Michonne retreated from the kitchen, Judith still asleep in her arms, and a grimace on her face. "What was that about?"

Rick looked back from the window, and his wedding ring, staring her up and down as she moved in closer. "What was what about?"

"You and Jessie's husband," she squinted. "You were very standoffish."

"I dunno, he's got a weird vibe," he shrugged. "I just don't like him."

Michonne had a pretty good idea of what he didn't like about the guy, and she figured that it was that he was married to Jessie. "_You've _got a weird vibe," she told him seriously. "And I don't like it."

His eyes locked on her, wondering if she was trying to pick a fight. They rarely disagreed, and when they did, he usually caved, because he didn't like to see her upset. But he didn't understand why she was giving him shit about this guy. "Why are you on his side?"

"I don't know that man." She continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes. "I'm just wondering what the hell is up with you."

"Nothing is up with me."

With a sigh, she took a look out of the window, seeing that Pete had just made it back to his house. Where he lived with his wife and kids. "Why was Jessie over here first thing this morning?"

Rick shook his head as if it were no big deal. "She just wanted to borrow some batteries. Somethin' for Sam."

That didn't explain why she ended up sitting in their kitchen, feeding Judith. But she had a patrol scheduled, and didn't have time to press him for things he obviously wasn't going to tell her. "Take your daughter," she said, slowly pulling the baby from her shoulder to hand her over.

He did so carefully, but kept his eyes on Michonne as he did. "Jessie thinks you don't like her," he stated as if it were a casual observation.

She looked up at him, wondering why he would care whether she did or didn't. "I don't _know_ her," she repeated. She motioned to grab her jacket from her assigned coat hook and then looked back at her friend. "And neither do you." With that, she opened the door to head to work.

He motioned to stop her from leaving, but remembered that there was nothing he could say to make any of this any better. He just nodded and watched her go. He knew he was showing his hand, but it was so hard to hide with Michonne. This plan was doing him more harm than good. And with Daryl gone, the pressure only seemed to be mounting. It was just him and Carol to bear the brunt of it, and she seemed to be doing just fine. He was the one drowning here, and had no one to save him.

Having overheard all the ongoing conversations, Carol made her way downstairs to find Rick. She was beginning to worry that he wasn't as resolute as he needed to be. She couldn't have him cracking under the pressure. They _needed_ Alexandria. "I know this is probably a lot tougher than you imagined it would be," she proclaimed, finding him still standing in the foyer. "But remember, we're doing this for us. For all of us."

"I'm fine," he lied, not turning from the window. He would watch Michonne walk down the street until he couldn't see her anymore.

"And what about you and Michonne. Are you two okay?"

He didn't know the answer to that, but he was well aware that the space between them was widening with every day that passed. Things were still all right, but he wasn't sure he would be able to say the same if she asked him tomorrow. "We're fine," he said. He hoped.

* * *

_**5 months ago.**_

The sun was just setting as Michonne made her way up to the prison gates. She smirked at the fact that the gas gauge was hitting E just as she pulled into the courtyard, where Carol greeted her happily. She grabbed her backpack and her katana and piled out of Rick's F-150.

"Well welcome home," Carol said, throwing her rifle over her back to give her friend a quick hug. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Michonne grinned, glancing around the prison yard. Winter had really done its job of slowing walkers down, and it showed in how few were surrounding the fences. "Only one person on fence duty these days, huh?"

"It's so cold, and there are so few of them, Rick's been letting everyone take an hour on, hour off."

Her smile widened at the mention of Rick's name, as she looked up at the prison. Knowing that he was just a few more feet away had her feeling giddy. "So everything's been going well then."

"Look at that smile," Carol commented knowingly as she followed Michonne towards the door. Rick had been donning a similar one in recent days, knowing that Michonne would soon be home. She was happy to see someone happy around there. "You two have been getting closer, huh?"

"Who two?" Michonne asked, attempting to feign ignorance. "I'm just glad to be home."

"Oh, I bet you are," she retorted suggestively.

"What are you trying to imply?" Michonne chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

"Absolutely nothing," Carol shook her head innocently. She grabbed the crowbar she'd leaned against the car and gave her friend's shoulder a quick squeeze. "You should get on inside. Someone's been waiting to see you."

Her smile didn't fade as she headed on up the steps. She had been waiting to see someone herself.

"Michonne," Carol called after her before she could make it inside. "There are condoms in my desk. Top right drawer."

"Carol!" she shrieked, though she had to admit she was amused by her brazenness, if nothing else. "That's not what this is."

"I've seen the way he looks at you," she said seriously. "If this is supposed to be a secret, you're both doing a very bad job at hiding it."

"It's not a secret," Michonne answered genuinely. "I just… I don't think we know what it is yet."

Carol nodded, having figured as much. Which was why she suggested the condoms in the first place. Nothing worse than ruining a moment because you didn't think ahead of time. "Top right drawer, Michonne."

Still laughing, still shaking her head as she continued inside, she made a mental note to stop by Carol's cell, just in case. _Just in case_. After all, the kiss she and Rick shared before she left was certainly a precursor to… something. And she'd had a lot of time on the road to think about just what that something was.

* * *

By midnight, Rick and Michonne were sitting solitarily in the cafeteria, enjoying a bowl of Carl and Michonne's infamous ice cream. It was essentially just condensed milk and evaporated milk, mixed together and then frozen, but Rick had to admit that it wasn't half bad.

"We probably should've saved some for Carl," he noted as they began to scrape the bottom of the rather large bowl.

"Hey, I told him to stay up," she shrugged jokingly. "This bowl is fair game once it's frozen."

"Oh, is that the deal?"

"That is the deal," she confirmed, swallowing another spoonful of the concoction. She watched Rick do the same, and her eyes were drawn to the way he slowly licked his lips as he pulled his spoon out of his mouth.

He was looking down into their bowl, completely unaware that she was practically studying him. "By the time it gets warm, we should have a nice collection of fruits to make some popsicles with," he commented. "The kids will like that."

Michonne shook herself out of her daze and nodded in agreement as he looked back up at her. "I honestly can't wait until it's hot again," she sighed. "This cold shit is for the birds."

"So you can walk around naked?" he wondered with raised eyebrows. He remembered that being one of her reasons for liking summer.

"What?" She chuckled nervously, unsure of what he was inferring.

"You told me you liked hot weather and being nearly naked," he reminded her, now licking the back of his spoon. "I didn't make that up, did I?"

She was getting lightheaded watching his tongue go to work on that spoon. She was barely even paying attention to the conversation. "I said that?"

"Pretty sure you did..."

"Well..." She exhaled softly and dropped her own spoon into the bowl. "I definitely prefer it to walking around in three layers of clothing."

"If it were up to me, it would be hot all the time then."

She did her best to hold back her smile, but she really did love it when he flirted with her. She liked their serious talks, and their silly nonsensical banter, but she also really enjoyed that he had all these lighthearted, sexually charged comments that he saved especially for her. It made it okay for her to sit there salivating over him eating some ice cream.

"I missed you a lot on this trip," she quietly confessed. Her eyes locked on him and she refused to let go. She needed him to know how serious she was. "It actually ached to think about you for too long, but that's all I wanted to do. I don't know what that was about."

He could feel his face flush. Knowing that she was thinking about him even a fraction as much as his mind was on her was thrilling. He smiled in reply. "I'm startin' to think you might like me, Kiddo."

"Imagine that," she chuckled. It was precisely that, and she knew it. She sighed as he dropped his spoon into the bowl on top of hers. "That kiss…"

"That kiss." It had been two weeks, but it still felt like yesterday to him. "That happened."

"Indeed it did." She was smirking at him, trying to resist the urge to climb over the table and reenact it. "I had a lot of time to think about it. And I do mean _a_ _lot_."

"It's a good thing we didn't do more than that then, huh?"

"Oh, but you wanted to," she shot back with a sly wink.

He nodded, smiling self-deprecatingly as he gazed down at the table. "Was it that obvious?"

"About as obvious as the gun in your holster…"

He found himself blushing again, but his smile didn't fade. He wasn't afraid of his attraction to her. "Well, you don't make it easy on me," he shrugged, looking her in the eye now. She made it very hard, in fact. "Climbing in my bed and gettin' all close. Don't act like you don't know what you're doin'."

"Oh, no. I'm well aware of it," she grinned. Underneath the table, she let her foot graze his lower leg, then slowly slide up to his thigh and then rest in his lap. Her toes circled his crotch, waiting for him to react.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "You're dirty."

"Filthy," she whispered, biting at her bottom lip. She removed her foot from his growing erection and pulled it back to her side of the table. She couldn't help but be a bit amused by the look of pure agony on his face. "So what were you saying about popsicles?"

He only stared at her in response, trying to figure out his next move. It was appropriate that they were sitting at the same table they'd played poker at a few months before. He let her win then, but it would not be going down the same way if he could help it. He wanted to make her scream. "I was saying you should get on the table," he finally replied in a low whisper.

Michonne was so proud of her bold move, she wasn't sure she heard him correctly. "What?"

He moved their empty bowl out of the way before repeating himself. "Get up here."

"What are you up to," she frowned. She was both confused and intrigued and it showed in her smile.

"I'll show you as soon as you get up here," he answered calmly, hopping onto the tabletop himself. She did as told, slowly climbing to meet him, both of them straddling the narrow steel slab. "Lay back," he instructed with his eyes fixated on her lips.

"What do-."

He moved in close to her, knowing that she couldn't help herself from protesting. Giving up control wasn't easy for someone like Michonne, and especially not after two weeks of being on the road alone and _having_ to be in control. He would have to take it. He grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him so that she fell back flat against the table. Smiling at the swift action, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and decided that she was going to allow him to do whatever he wanted.

His hands slowly crept beneath her shirt, taking in every inch of her warm flesh and her hard, flat stomach. Her muscles contracted and her breathing quickened the further he went, the more he exposed her skin to the cold open air. She let out a quiet moan when she felt his tongue circle her bellybutton.

He continued to make his way upward, softly kissing and licking every inch of her skin he could until he reached her breasts. He had been waiting to see them for so long, he wanted to savor the moment, only revealing the underside of her plump B-cups at first. He sucked at her reverse cleavage, slowly pulling her shirt further up to reveal her nipples, smiling to find he was right about her nipple piercing – a tiny gold bar going through the hardened bud of her right breast. It made her even sexier to him, if that were possible.

"Can I still suck that one?" he asked, already fondling the other.

"Please do," she grinned, licking her lips at just the thought.

He wasted no time taking her into his mouth, softly biting at the gauge and running his tongue back and forth across her sensitive nipple. The sound of his teeth against the metal was the only sound in the room. Michonne's fingers ran through Rick's hair as she did her best to stay silent through the arousal. Even if they weren't in the cellblock, she knew anyone could be going by at any minute. In fact, anyone could walk right in there if they wanted to.

"Rick, what if someone gets hungry," she whispered, realizing just how public the space was.

"Then they'll probably see us," he mumbled with a mouth full of her tits.

She smiled at the fact that he was obviously in too deep to care. Between her legs, she could feel his erection bulging through his jeans and she could feel herself getting wet already. Her pussy was pulsing and the lower half of her body was involuntarily thrusting up towards him to get him even closer. She wanted him inside her right then, right there.

Rick, however, was still enjoying the taste of her, and he wanted more. He wanted all of it. He continued back down her stomach, kissing her waistline as his fingers hooked onto the elastic bands of both her pants and her panties and pulled them down. His lips kissed at her pelvis, then continued downward, licking down her bikini line as he peeled her pants from her thighs. He looked up to see her pussy glistening, just waiting for him. Once he got her pants all the way off, he licked his lips, ready for a taste.

Rick threw her legs over each of his shoulders and ran his index finger along her outer lips, amused by the shiver she sent back. He smiled sexily as he took a dive in, licking her broadly at first, his tongue devouring both her lips as if they were her mouth. She responded by bucking her hips towards his face, so he continued for a bit, lapping up the sweet juices he'd already evoked in her. He then concentrated on her clit, using the tip of his tongue to flick it back and forth, ever so lightly. He circled it quickly, then used the tip of his finger to gently rub it. She began to contort in reply, with a fistful of his hair in one hand, and her arm gripping the table with the other.

"Fuck," she whimpered breathlessly. Her entire body felt trapped in a prison of ecstasy as his tongue moved in ways she didn't think possible. He was the perfect combination of slow, quick, and soft. She was doing everything in her power to not start screaming at the top of her lungs. "Don't ever stop," she begged.

With her legs practically wrapped around his head, he continued to lick her up and down, side to side. She was so wet, her juices were dripping down his chin, and he lapped up every bit of it. This was way better than any ice cream he'd ever had.

"God," she moaned loudly as her orgasm sent waves and chills through her body. She took a deep breath as she let her legs rest, but Rick was still putting in work, swirling his tongue around her clit, kissing her inner thighs. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. "Okay, I lied," she panted. "You can stop."

He smiled against her thigh and let his head rest there for a moment, feeling satisfied with satisfying her. "You sure?"

She nodded, running her hands through his hair as she gazed down at him. "Just gimme a minute."

Amused, he sat up to look at her, splayed across the table, absolutely sated. Her chest heaving up and down as she ran her hand over her face. He had been waiting months to see her exactly like this. Then, without warning or struggle, she sat straight up to meet his gaze and began to unbutton his shirt.

She pulled herself to her knees, between his legs, and pushed him backwards on the table as her fingers moved down his torso, to his lean waist. She kept her eyes on him as she slowly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and freed his throbbing dick. He waited so patiently while he pleased her, she wanted nothing more than to return the favor.

Her eyes moved down the length of his body as he sprang free, and she took his length into her hands. He had a nice dick - smooth, long, and thick. Just the right size, like it would fit perfectly inside her. She gently stroked him with both her hands, at the same time as bringing her tongue to the tip. A slow lick at first, then taking more of him in as he gasped slightly at the sensation. Her tongue circled the head faster, then rolled down his shaft as if she was licking a popsicle. His eyes were closed and he was biting his bottom lip, trying to stave off his explosion, but it had been so long since he'd gotten any, the end seemed inevitably close.

Even so, Michonne continued to suck his cock like a pro, softly massaging his balls while she deep throated his length, kissing the tip, then rolling her tongue around it. His deep breathing quickened the faster she sucked. He was on the verge of coming all over her, and she could feel it. She could taste it. She gave him one final roll of the tongue and then pulled away.

His eyes popped open to stare at her curiously. "What's wrong?"

"We've got a problem," she realized, climbing from her position on top of him.

"No, we don't," he groaned. His balls were so tight, he was certain he was going to explode. He was so ready for her, he could barely breathe. The feel of her pussy on top of his swollen dick, riding him, all wet and hot while he sucked her tits. She'd gotten him to the perfect point, and now, he just needed her on top of him. "Just hop on."

"I forgot to get condoms."

"Forgot?"

"I mean… I thought this might happen, and… yes, I forgot," she huffed, also frustrated that she did the exact thing she didn't want to do. "Just stay here. I'll g-."

"No, you stay here," he jumped in, before she could put her clothes back on. The last thing he wanted was to see her get dressed again. "I'll go."

"Rick, I'm honestly not even sure you could get that thing back in your jeans," she joked, eyeing his stiff dick. "I'll go."

"I got it," he insisted, carefully pulling his pants back on. He threw on his shirt as well, already headed for the door. "Where are they?"

"In Carol's top right desk drawer."

"Carol?" he turned back to her with a frown. "How does that work?"

"It works by going to her cell and telling her you need a couple of condoms."

"Is this a joke?"

"I'm sitting naked on a cold, steel table, waiting for you to fuck me," she deadpanned. "Does this seem like a joke?"

He sighed under the mounting frustration in his groin. "Why her?"

"Because she offered," she answered with her own sharp exhale. "This is why I said I would go."

"No, I can do it." He quickly exited the cafeteria and headed down the long, quiet hallway towards Cellblock C, where Carol resided in the cell just above his. He approached her door, realizing it was incredibly late to be bothering her for such a thing. But he heard voices coming from inside, and hoped that meant she was still awake. "Carol?" he asked, knocking lightly.

"Yeah?"

He hesitantly entered her room to see Daryl sitting at her desk playing with cards, while she was in the corner of her bed, wrapped in a blanket. "Hey," he greeted them both.

Daryl took note of Rick's messy hair and only chuckled. "Hey, man."

"Everything okay?" Carol asked, containing a smile as she glanced at Daryl, then back at Rick.

"Yep," Rick returned, only slightly embarrassed. He didn't have a lot of time to waste, knowing a naked Michonne was back in the cafeteria waiting for him. "You got any condoms left?"

"In fact, I do," she grinned back in amusement. "Daryl, could you?"

Daryl instantly pulled open the top right drawer and grabbed a handful of prophylactics for his buddy, passing them over without comment.

"Thank you," he accepted with a nod to both of them, turning to leave.

"Don't use 'em all at once," Carol advised as he headed out of the door.

"No promises."

When he returned to Michonne, he was thankful to find her still sitting on the table, butt naked, with her legs spread wide for him. He licked his lips at the sight, knowing they would have absolutely no problems picking up right where they left off.

"You are so goddamn beautiful," he noted, staring at her like the work of art that she was.

She smiled at him, welcoming him between her legs as she undid his jeans again. "You already got me," she reminded him jokingly. "You don't have to keep trying."

"I'm gonna always keep trying," he said, planting a wet kiss on her lips.

"Good." She quickly tore open a condom and handed it over to him before lying flat on her back, ready and waiting for him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** So I guess that last chapter opened up the floor to a whole lotta questions, haha. The one that everyone wants to know – Why aren't they together now? – I, of course, cannot answer at this point in time. But indeed, we will find out!

Really quickly, I'll answer what I can:  
-First of all, sorry for ending it there! (Well, not really.) But good things come to those who wait!  
-Carol isn't the enemy, guys! I mean, she's got more issues than Us Weekly, but she's not actively trying to push Rick and Michonne apart. She's just got her own agenda, and yeah... it's problematic. But we'll talk more about that in a future chapter.  
-A Daryl/Carol thing back at the prison could definitely be inferred, but… I'm probably gonna just leave it at that. Ha.  
-Yes, this is why Maggie keeps pushing a Rick agenda on Michonne. She's a Richonne shipper from way back. LOL.  
-And my favorite question, _how are Rick and Michonne alive without constantly getting it in?_ First of all, thank you for writing this in all caps, because I laughed and laughed and that is just perfect. But you know what? This is probably what 90% of their problems are stemming from. Rick is going through withdrawals, and Michonne was ready to give it up at the party, but he started acting like a fuckboy, and now here we are. Smh.

Okay, I'll let you guys get to reading! Just as a point of reference, both the flashback and the present in this chapter pick up just a few hours from where they left off in Chapter 5.

Thank you all so much for the stellar response! You're the best! -Ash

* * *

**Chapter 6  
**"**All of this is fucking weird."**

_**5 months ago.  
**_

It was the morning after Rick and Michonne's glorious night in the cafeteria, and Michonne awoke with an uncontainable smile on her face. She felt as though she was on cloud nine, staring up into space as she recreated their entire evening in her head. She could still feel Rick's hands all over her body; him inside her, with that stroke that sent her to climax within minutes. It had been a good fucking night.

He wanted to stay with her the rest of the night, but she thought it best if they go to their separate corners to cool off. She wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep with him next to her. It was difficult enough on her own.

But morning had come, and Michonne was ready to see his face again. She hopped out of bed and threw on a sweater and a pair of Ugg boots she'd begun to use for slippers before heading over to Rick's cell. Empty. She continued next door to Carl's room, but he was fast asleep, and so was Judith, she noticed. She made it a point to get out of there quickly before the little one woke up, as Judith was a pot she definitely did not want to stir.

Figuring there were only a couple of other places Rick could be, she turned in the opposite direction of her cell and headed for the cafeteria. Maybe he'd gone back to the scene of their crimes to make sure they hadn't left any evidence. She had to shake her head at herself, being so careless with Rick. Or maybe carefree was the better word. Either way, she knew it was out of character for her, and still, she had no regrets. In fact, she wouldn't have minded it happening again.

That was, if she ever found Rick again. When she entered the cafeteria, the only person there was Maggie, wrapped up in a blanket, drinking coffee. "What the hell," Michonne mumbled to herself in frustration. She started turning to leave, planning to check the bathrooms next.

"If you're lookin' for Rick, he's outside with my dad," Maggie declared before she could make her exit. "Been out there since six."

Michonne spun back to her, confused. "Doing what?"

"Probably freezin' to death," she joked. "It's nice to see you back, by the way. This place ain't the same without you."

"It's nice to be back," Michonne grinned at her warmly. "I missed our bathroom gossip sessions."

"Good thing is, there hasn't been much to report. Our Sasha-Daryl prediction doesn't seem to be pannin' out."

She decided to go ahead and take a seat with Maggie for a bit, seeing how she was in no rush to go out into the freezing cold, even for Rick. "What makes you say that?" she asked, whispering as if someone were listening in on them.

Maggie just raised her eyebrows, as if she should know the answer, and took a sip of her coffee.

"So we're back to the Carol theory," she realized with a nod. "Okay."

"It's the best we've got."

"Rick did say Daryl was in her room late last night," Michonne recalled. "I think you're right. It's a strong theory."

The two of them laughed at their silliness, but Maggie couldn't help but notice the effervescent glow Michonne had going herself. "So if you're lookin' for Rick, does this mean you two slept separately last night?" she posed curiously. It was hard to imagine the two of them not spending her first night back together. "Everythin' all right?"

"Everything is fantastic," Michonne smirked, trying not to let the images of them in that very room invade her mind. She did have to wonder if they ever cleaned the table after they were done. She thought so, but she was in such a haze by the end of the night, she couldn't be sure.

"Is that right?" Maggie was eyeing her now.

"Yep." She could not keep the smile off of her face.

"Michonne, spill. Now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're a bad liar," she shot back matter-of-factly. Her eyes and her smile began to widen when she realized that Michonne was clearly hiding something big here. "Did you kiss?" she tried to guess, not realizing that she was about two weeks late with that deduction.

"Before I left," Michonne revealed with a playful shrug.

"What!" Maggie banged on the table incredulously and leaned in to start whispering, even though they were obviously alone. "So you did more than that last night?"

"Maybe…"

"Michonne, tell me right now or I go outside and ask Rick."

She shook her head, amused by Maggie's excitement and investment in this. She didn't want to necessarily tell Rick's business before warning him first, him being the leader and all. But it was her business to share too, and she would've shouted it from the rooftops if she could. Besides, she trusted Maggie, and had really come to enjoy their gab sessions. It really helped to fill some of the void that Andrea left.

She cautiously leaned in to meet Maggie's green gaze, struggling to wipe the smile off of her face before she spoke. "We… had sex last night," she quietly admitted. "A lot of sex."

"Oh my god," she squealed happily. "Seriously?"

"Oh, it was very serious."

"Holy shit." Maggie was in disbelief that the two of them had finally gone through with it. She was certain it would be another few months before Rick even considered sex again, but it seemed that Michonne had come along and changed everything for him. "So how'd this happen?" she pressed. "What led up to it? Who initiated it?"

"Oh god," Michonne chuckled. "I think I sort of did?"

"Of course."

"I don't know, it was very much this weirdly mutual, unspoken sort of thing. I thought we were just flirting, as we tend to do. But it went from zero to sixty real quick."

"Oh my god, what's he like in bed?" she wondered out loud, but quickly reconsidered. "No, no, no, don't tell me. I'll start lookin' at him differently."

"You know, you've told me more than I ever wanted to know about Glenn, and I don't look at him any differently."

"Fair point," she granted, taking another quick sip of her brew. "Honestly, I wanna know everythin'… but I don't wanna know anythin'."

"Well I can't help you with that," Michonne laughed, pulling up from her seat. "But I wouldn't tell you everything anyway. Some things aren't meant to be shared."

"You know you're just makin' me more curious, right?"

"You are a mess, girl," she continued chuckling as she headed towards the kitchen.

"Just tell me what you'd rate it on a scale of one to ten," Maggie called after her.

It only took a moment for Michonne to respond. "Twenty!"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Michonne was finally making her way outside, where Rick and Hershel were in the middle of the prison yard, discussing their plans for the farming land they'd been preparing to implement in the spring. Rick looked so focused on what Hershel was saying, she almost hated to interrupt their conversation. But she had already dragged herself into the freezing cold to see his face, there was no way she was turning back now.

She greeted the two of them with a bright smile and two travel mugs. "Good morning!"

A matching grin spread across Rick's features the second he saw her. Watching her walk toward him was like seeing the sun rise again. "Hey," he answered happily.

"I heard you came in last night," Hershel greeted her as well. "Glad to have you back."

"It's good to be back."

"What are you doin' out here?" Rick wondered. Not that he was complaining, but after months of sharing beds, he had a pretty good understanding of how much she hated the cold.

"Well," she said, handing him a mug and passing the other to Hershel, "Maggie said you'd been out here for a while, so I thought I'd bring you some coffee."

"My own daughters aren't even this thoughtful," Hershel grinned, accepting the gift. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Rick returned, eyeing her as he took a sip. He noticed that she added just the right amount of cream and sugar, which only served as another reminder of how perfect she was.

She hesitantly dropped Rick's gaze and began to survey the land, seeing where they had already begun squaring off plots for different purposes. "So how's it going out here?"

"It's going well," Hershel nodded, taking in the property as well. "Come spring, this place'll be unrecognizable."

"I noticed you guys have gotten started on the grill already."

"That's Daryl and Carol's project," he confirmed, looking back towards the courtyard. "They say that oughta be done in about a month's time."

"Wow," Michonne marveled, but noticed that Rick was still staring at her. "I feel like a slacker. I haven't done anything to help."

"You're helpin' in your own way," Hershel assured her. "Besides, there's plenty to do while you're here, you know."

"Whatever you need."

He began to walk toward the creek, where they got their water supply. "The pipes have started to freeze over at night," he was telling her.

Michonne began to follow in his footsteps, but not before Rick pulled her back by her arm and planted a quick kiss on her lips before Hershel could see.

"I just had to do that," he whispered before the two of them went on to follow their friend down towards the water.

Smiling at the action, Michonne gladly licked the taste of Rick's coffee from her lips and left to catch up to Hershel. He was essentially telling Michonne that she needed to come outside every morning and knock the ice from the pipes.

"It's a two person job," he went on, turning back to the two of them. "Maybe you both can take it on for the next couple weeks or so."

Michonne gazed at Rick and nodded, while Rick was biting at his bottom lip as his eyes locked on hers. "I think we can handle that," he said.

Hershel could only chuckle at the two of them. While he didn't have any explicit knowledge of what was going on between them, he could take a wild guess, based on the way they were looking at one other. "I'll let you two get to it then."

"We're done?" Rick questioned, watching as he began to hobble off towards the prison. He thought they still had vegetables and horse stables to discuss.

"We are."

As he made his way back to the cellblock, leaving the lovebirds to themselves, Michonne and Rick moved to face one another, smiling at each other awkwardly as they took in the cold.

"Hey." Rick submitted bashfully, before turning to make sure Hershel was gone.

"Don't try to act all shy now," she retorted, eyeing him playfully. "I already know the real you."

"Yeah, I guess you do," he nodded, scratching at his eyebrow. "How are you feelin'?"

"I'm still good," she returned with a smile to confirm it. "You?"

"Really good," he assured her. "Aside from the fact that I got no sleep."

"Yeah, I only got about an hour myself. You wore me out."

"Me?" he laughed. He moved in close to her, pulling his hands from his pockets to stroke her arms, hoping to help keep her warm. "If I recall correctly, you're the one that wanted to go three rounds."

"Well then you do not recall correctly," she smirked. She nestled even closer to him, resting her face against his chest, thankful for his body heat. Despite the temperature, everything felt perfect there inside his arms.

"I'm glad it happened," he offered seriously, wanting to reassure her that he had no regrets about whatever they were doing.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes searching his blues for the answer to the question she was about to ask. "What is this, Rick?" She'd been asking herself all night, but kept coming up empty. "Are we gonna be a 'thing?'"

He didn't know or necessarily want to know the answer to that at the moment. All he knew was that he was happy. "We're gonna be whatever you want us to be," he intimated softly.

She rested her head against him again, nodding to his chest. "I'll let you know as soon as I figure it out then."

* * *

_**Present day.**_

After a fairly uneventful patrol shift, Michonne walked back into her home, toting a basket of laundry she'd done over at Eric's house, as he was one of few houses to still have power. She entered the kitchen to find Carl and Ron at the table, working on homework. An odd sight, to say the least, but one that she loved.

"Hey, boys," she greeted them with a cheerful smile.

"Hey, Michonne," they both answered, nearly in unison.

"What are we working on?"

"Geometry," Carl held up the book for Michonne as he rolled his eyes. "Like any of this will ever be helpful."

"You never know," she said, dropping the laundry basket to the counter. "Understanding an angle just might save your life out there."

"You mean outside the walls?" Ron wondered, feeling instantly unsettled by the thought. "You guys aren't leaving, are you?"

"We're not going anywhere," Michonne assured him, grinning. "Not if we can help it..."

"But you have to be prepared for anything," Carl finished for her, understanding exactly what she was saying.

"Right." She was relieved to know that he hadn't gone completely soft in his time at Alexandria. But she was also happy to see him adjusting so well. Rick was right when he said Carl was adaptable. "You guys hungry?"

"Starving," Carl shot back quickly. "I asked Dad about dinner an hour ago, but him and Carol seemed busy, so I let it go."

Michonne had to actively stop her face from contorting into a scowl at the mention of Rick and Carol being at it again. She didn't know what 'it' was, but she could glean that it wasn't good. If it were, Rick would've told her about it by now. She had been trying so hard to ignore it, but it was damn near blatant at that point. "Are they home?"

"Dad is," he nodded. "Carol is delivering cookies to the neighbors with Ron's brother."

Carol and those goddamn cookies. They must have been part of whatever this secret was. "Ron, you're welcome to stay for dinner," she said, shaking away her annoyance with Rick and Carol. "So long as you get your mom's permission first."

"Oh, she doesn't care," he shook his head. "I would love to stay. Thank you."

"Not a problem," she grinned, already turning for the refrigerator. It was then that she caught sight of Rick in the reflection of the fridge door, holding Judith. She turned to say hello, but the look on his face gave her pause. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. She was instantly reminded of the Rick that kicked Sasha and Tyreese out of the prison two minutes after meeting them.

She quickly moved across the kitchen to approach and gently pushed him back towards the foyer so that they were out of earshot of Carl and Ron. "Are you okay?" she questioned, trying to hide her alarm.

He stared blankly towards the kitchen, with his mouth agape. He looked lost. Michonne didn't know it, and he wouldn't tell her, but he'd just found out that Pete was hitting Jessie. It never failed – there was always something wrong. "Why are we here?" he croaked out, finally looking at her face. He still couldn't look her in the eye, but her face, he could do. "What is this?"

She wasn't sure what he was referring to exactly. Why were they in the foyer? What was Alexandria? Was he in the middle of an existential crisis? "Rick, what are you talking about?"

"I mean… we came here because we needed to get out of the wild. That's what you said," he was nodding. "You and Glenn were so adamant that we were out there too long. But who's to say that wasn't where we belonged?"

She frowned at him, wondering if he even understood what he was talking about. "Do you not remember that we were dying out there?"

"People can die in here too," he whispered. "You think all the bad stuff is gone just because we're behind some walls? You put up your sword and everything's okay?"

"I think having a bed for your daughter to sleep in at night is a much better alternative than sleeping on the floor of a barn."

"Maybe so."

"How is this a question?" He was truly beginning to scare her. "What's going on, Rick?"

"I just… wonder. How do you fix a problem you don't know how to solve?"

He seemed to be off on a completely different tangent now. She was so lost. "What?"

"I couldn't save Beth," he declared, apropos of nothing. He finally looked her in the eye as he asked, "Do you forgive me for losing the prison?"

"Rick, you didn't l-."

"I didn't kill the Governor when I had the chance. I didn't kill Andrew when I had the chance." His index finger was tapping lightly against Judith's back as he spoke. "I know we're out of the wild, Michonne. I get it. But I'm not making the same mistake again. I'm fixing this one."

The more he spoke, the more her confusion turned to concern. She softly placed her hand on his chest, just wanting to calm him down, if it all possible. "Who's Andrew," she inquired quietly.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Honestly, I don't understand any of this," she shook her head. "A few hours ago, you were questioning me about your little girlfriend, and now you sound like you're preparing for war."

"She's not my girlfriend," he quickly retorted.

"Well no shit, she's married. But you are strangely protective of her, and it's weird. All of this?" She gestured broadly, referring to the entire conversation, but really, all of his behavior since they'd arrived to Alexandria, "Is fucking weird."

"What's fucking weird is that you're the one that didn't want me, yet you're the one constantly reprimanding me for daring to talk to other women."

Michonne's jaw dropped in disbelief that that was how he viewed the events in their relationship. Didn't want him? Reprimanding him? He obviously had a very selective memory. "I don't care who you talk to," she lied. She knew she was lying and didn't care about that either. "But if you're gonna lust after married women, have the decency to keep your kids out of it."

"You don't get-."

"I strongly urge you to think about what you're about to say here," she cut him off.

He took her advice and paused for a moment. Their conversation had somehow devolved into an argument, and that was never his intent. He hated arguing, and especially with Michonne. He just wanted his friend back. But if she knew what he was up to, she would be even more upset than she already was. He began to shake his head, wanting to apologize, but as they stood at their front door, they could see the figure of someone approaching. It was Glenn.

"Can we table this discussion for now?" he asked hopefully.

She nodded, wanting a truce herself. Arguing with Rick was high on her list of least favorite things, but that seemed to be all they did nowadays. She took Judith from him so that he could answer the door, figuring Glenn was most likely there to see him.

When his face came into view, they both knew that their discussion would be tabled for quite a while. Something had obviously gone wrong on the run. Covered in blood and his face full of dried tears, Glenn added another name to the ever-growing list of dead loved ones. "We lost Noah."

* * *

In a matter of hours, tensions at Alexandria were reaching a fever pitch. The group had just lost Noah, Tara was in a coma, Deanna lost her son Aiden, and there was still the Pete and Jessie situation. The idea of perfect Alexandria was crumbling before everyone's eyes – even the residents that lived there before.

Rick was just returning from Glenn's house, getting a briefing of their run, and how catastrophically bad it had gone because of Nicholas. He was planning to go inside and sit with his family when he found Carol standing on their porch staring out. Staring at Jessie. He knew she must have felt some connection to her situation, and it really made him simultaneously sad and angry for them both.

"I sent a casserole to Deanna's family," Carol announced once she saw Rick. "Wanted her to see that." As Rick stood to join her, the two of them watched Jessie together, noting that both of her children seemed angry with her. "You thought about Pete?" she went on to ask. "About what I said?"

She said that Rick would have to kill Pete if he wanted to fix this, and he'd thought about it all afternoon. It was all he could think about, in fact. He didn't know whether Carol was right, or if she was just as jaded as he was, but he did know that he _wanted_ to kill him. He'd been itching for it before ever knowing the man was abusive, and now that want was turning to need. "Yeah," he answered simply.

"I talked to Sam some more. He said his mom put a bolt on the inside of his closet. Tells him to lock himself in sometimes and not come out 'til morning. Said he can hear his dad yelling. Things breaking, his mom crying," she revealed slowly. Every sentence she uttered was worse than the last. "Last month, it got quiet right in the middle of it and he went out and found her on the floor. Unconscious. Bleeding. Pete was just sitting on the porch."

Rick was seething. His entire body tensed as he looked over to Carol. "Why do you care what happens to Jessie?" He said it to her, but he knew her answer already. It was as though he was really asking himself.

"You know why," she said, confirming his conjecture. "And I know why you do."

He needed her to tell him, because he couldn't seem to figure it out. She was a nice woman, sure, but his affection for her didn't make sense even to him. "Why?"

"I've seen you talk to her…"

He didn't know what that meant. He talked to her the same way he talked to anyone else. He enjoyed her small talk. He enjoyed the ordinariness of her life there, but he couldn't be sure that that had anything to do with her.

"If walkers hadn't gotten Ed, I wouldn't be here," Carol went on, hoping it would incite Rick to finally take action.

He hated that Carol thought that, but she was wrong. Without question, he would've helped her then, just as he would help Jessie now. "Yeah, you would."

He continued out to the backyard to collect his thoughts. To consider whether he had any other options. As much as he hated Pete, he did understand that he wasn't out in the wild anymore. Killing people couldn't be the first resort. That was what Deanna would say. That was what Michonne would say. Still, as he stood at the neighborhood pond, staring at a boat with a red balloon tied to it, he found himself pulling his secret gun from his waistband.

Because killing Pete was the easiest way to fix it. He'd learned this lesson many times over by now. With The Governor. With Gareth. With Grady. It was kill or be killed, and these people didn't understand that. They didn't understand anything, it seemed. He needed to fix them.

* * *

Michonne, Maggie, Sasha, and Carl were sitting in Michonne's living room, mostly in sad silence, everyone's minds obviously on Noah. There was nothing to say to make it better. He was a sweet, bright kid, who didn't deserve to die. Not that others _deserved_ to die, but it was especially difficult to lose someone with so much promise. He was finally finding his footing in the group, feeling like he belonged after losing his own family, only to be snatched away. The bad things just never seemed to stop.

Glenn came in from the kitchen with a glass of water for his wife before taking a seat below her on the floor, next to Carl. The silence of the room felt so loud, but it was what they needed. This loss was demanding to be felt, likely because they had all been so happy at Alexandria. The world was perhaps trying to remind them that it wasn't all sunshine and roses just because they'd found relative safety.

"Michonne?" Carl looked up to the woman he had come to know as a mother, waiting for her to respond.

"Yeah, Carl?"

"Would it be wrong if we put Noah's grave separate from their people?"

She looked down at him quizzically, wishing she had an answer for him. But she hadn't given any thought to any burial plots, or what 'they' did for their loved ones that passed. They had so few losses, even they probably didn't think about it.

"I don't know," she told him honestly, shaking her head. "I… why?"

He went back to resting his head against Michonne's leg and closed his eyes. "I just don't want us to forget that he was one of us."

Glenn looked over at the teenager, knowing he didn't mean anything by it, but it was the same thing Rick had said just a little while before. "How long are we gonna stay in this 'us versus them' mentality," he wondered.

Maggie softly ran her fingers through his hair, hoping to instantly calm him. This wasn't the time for that conversation. "Glenn, please don't," she requested faintly.

"I'm just saying, we can't keep living like this," he continued. "We can't expect to make a home here if we're gonna treat everyone that's not us as an enemy."

"They're not enemies," Sasha interjected quietly. "But they're not us."

"They're weak," Carl agreed. "I just want Noah to be remembered as strong. Because he was."

"He will be," Maggie promised, wiping at a few tears that had begun to fall down her cheeks. Michonne reached over to squeeze her hand, and she tried to offer a smile back, but it came out as more of a wince. She was trying to hold it together, especially after hearing Father Gabriel shit on her entire group to Deanna, but this loss was threatening to break her. Noah was the last connection she had to Beth, and now he was gone too? "We can't let go, y'all. That was the last thing Noah said to Glenn, and we've gotta hold onto that. Remember the reason we're here is because Aaron was impressed with our fortitude out there on the road." She wiped more tears before taking Michonne's hand again, and looking over to Sasha. "We can't self-destruct now."

As if on cue, Rick, the ticking time bomb himself, came walking in the door. He had his hands in his pockets, and a wild glare in his eye. He stood in the doorway of the living room, taking in the sight of the five of them. They all had the same look of disappointment on their faces. And even worse, he didn't know what to say to them. "Hello." That was the best he could come up with.

"Hey, Rick," Maggie was the only one to reply. "Why don't you come sit with us?"

He wasn't sure that was the best idea. He couldn't even handle his own grief, much less that of five other people, including his son and Michonne. That was a recipe for spontaneous combustion for sure. "I umm… I gotta run upstairs," he said, rubbing nervously at his left eyebrow. "I'll be back."

Michonne was disgusted by his response, but also knew that this lack of empathy was the complete opposite of the Rick she knew. She wasn't going to let him abandon them. She quickly excused herself from the couch and followed him to his room, where she found him staring out of his window. "Rick?"

He pulled his hands from his pocket, where he'd been holding his secret gun, and let them rest freely at his sides. He then closed his eyes, as if he could reset the crazy out of them, before looking towards Michonne. "Yeah?"

"I don't know how many different ways I can ask this, but… are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he continued to lie. "You don't have to keep checking in on me."

"I'm not even sure if I'm doing it for you anymore," she admitted, leaning against the wall as she stared at him. "I mean, I am worried about you, and I don't know if this is just you recalibrating, or if you're suffering from PTSD, but… those people down there need you to be their leader right now."

His eyes flitted downwards, once again avoiding Michonne's stare. "I thought Deanna was their leader..."

Michonne instantly began to glare at him, feeling like she was talking to a complete stranger. It was so hard to be on his side with him acting like this. "How 'bout your kids? You gonna let Deanna take care of them too? Maybe give 'em to Jessie?" She didn't wait for another smartass answer from him, but turned to leave him to his petulance. "Get your shit together, Rick."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **So yeah, you guys are awesome. I just love hearing you guys' thoughts, particularly about Carol because they crack me up. blackwomanwriter and Bizzie106, I'm so, so glad you picked up what I was trying to relay about Rick's trauma and how lost he is without Michonne. Which is, of course, by his own design, but he's just not in the space to realize that yet. LadyLuckAJ, Michonne doesn't know about Andrew because no one's told her! Lori's death is kind of something everyone avoids (which is why Rick is where he is now), so she never knew exactly how Lori died. Maybe Carl will tell her one of these days! And to the Guest that asked about updates, I don't want to _promise_ this, but at least once a week is probably a good bet, lol. My house is being renovated right now, so I'm a bit of a mess as of late, but don't worry, I will not leave you hanging!

Lots of show stuff that you already know at the top of this chapter. I tried to make it quick and add some spin, but it's essentially a bunch of stuff you've already seen, so I apologize in advance if it's boring! Haha. And I got a wee bit carried away writing the flashback, so this is just… long. But I hope you enjoy! -Ash

* * *

**Chapter 7  
**"**Don't even poke that bear."**

_**Present day.**_

Michonne and Rosita had just caught up to Sasha, who seemed to be on a rampage outside the gates, and were trying to talk her back in when they came across a fairly large group of walkers wandering through the woods. Sasha began her assault immediately, but the other two hesitated to engage.

"We've gotta get outta here," Rosita proclaimed nervously. They could handle the small herd in its current state, but it wouldn't take much for that to change.

Still, Sasha was adamant that she belonged out there, hunting walkers. She was tired of playing defense. "Oh, you do," she replied almost excitedly. "I don't."

Michonne wasn't sure what to do. She was out there without her sword, and had only a handgun as protection. She felt somewhat out of her element, and she couldn't quite figure out why. For all intents and purposes, she was much more used to being out there than anywhere else. Whether it was on the road alone, or with Andrea, or with Rick and the rest of the group, she had learned to thrive out there, but it seemed that being in Alexandria had taken away some of her edge. She was starting to let herself forget.

As she moved to stand beside Sasha and raise her gun, the sharpshooter turned back to her with disdain. "I don't need your help," she shook her head.

Michonne was very clear that she was doing this for herself. "This isn't for you."

Together, the three of them sprung into action, massacring the small horde, one at a time. Rosita with her knife, Sasha with her sniper rifle, Michonne with her Beretta. They took care of them with a fair amount of ease, if not a bit loudly. But as they got down to the last remaining corpse, Sasha found herself being wrestled to the ground after running out of ammo. Michonne was the one to dispatch the walker, much to Sasha's dismay.

"I had it!" she sneered at Michonne. She then slapped away her outstretched hand, offering to assist her up from the ground. "I don't need your help."

Michonne didn't reply, because she knew Sasha was going through something that words wouldn't be able to talk her out of. She was already gone after Bob and Tyreese. The pressure was only mounting at that point. So she let her glare at her and yell at her, because that was what she needed to do.

"I told you to go," Sasha went on angrily. She glanced at Rosita, but her focus mostly stayed on Michonne and her happy little existence inside those walls. She was certain Michonne could never understand what she was going through. "_You_? You can't do anything. It worked out for you," her voice was breaking as she spoke. "Don't you see that? You can't help me," she shook her head, her eyes watering. "Nobody…"

Michonne's expression immediately softened, understanding that their friend wasn't just angry. Losing Bob and Ty, at practically the same time, she felt as though she was alone. She was sad. She was broken, and Michonne honestly didn't have the first clue how to fix it.

* * *

Michonne took her time heading back inside the gates of Alexandria. She was in no rush to go back to Rick and whatever nonsense he was up to for the day. But also, Sasha's words had managed to haunt her, and she found herself really contemplating what she'd said. _It worked out for you_. While Sasha didn't explicitly state it, Michonne knew she was referring to Rick. She was under the impression, like most, that a happy ending was on the horizon for them. Now that they'd found Alexandria, and were living together, they could simply pick up where they left off at the prison. And Michonne understood why that was the assumption, because it had been at the back of her mind, too. They could be happy at Alexandria, like they were in Georgia. They could make lives there.

But something strange happened when they arrived, and all of those expectations seemed to just drift away. Nothing ever felt quite right between them once she told him that she wanted to 'sign the papers.' Rick seemed to want something else entirely, be it anarchy, or a married woman. Maybe he felt like he needed a project, or a conquest. She couldn't tell, and at that point, was tired of trying to figure out. She could make her peace with being just friends with Rick. The hard part was realizing even that was a questionable prospect at the moment.

As she made her way down her block, back towards her house, she could see Rick standing in the threshold of Jessie's garage. They both looked distraught, which was quite a change of pace from all their ridiculous smiles at one another. It wasn't until Michonne got closer that she could hear what was actually being said.

"He's hitting you," Rick stoically declared as Jessie glared back at him. "He's hurting you. It has to stop."

It was clear that she was embarrassed that he had discovered her awful secret. She needed for Rick to not see her as a victim. She was tired of being seen that way. "It will," she nodded.

"How?"

"There are things in his life that happened-."

"I don't… care," he shook his head. A bad past didn't excuse Pete from being an asshole. By that logic, everyone in his family would've been an awful person.

"Look, it was like this before, and he got help. I helped him, and things were good. I can fix it."

"No you can't," he sighed. "But I can."

"No, what can you do?" She was shaking her head now as she walked towards him. She couldn't handle someone coming in trying to be her knight in shining armor, not if he couldn't keep that promise. "You gonna put him in jail? You're only gonna make things worse."

"If it's gotten worse, it means he's killed you. That's what's next. And I'm not gonna let that happen." He couldn't. Not again. He needed to fix it this time.

Jessie stared at him sadly, her eyes fixated on the desperation in his. "Why do you care?" When he didn't answer, she continued to press him for one. "Why is this so important to you? Now? You've made it, you have a home for your kids. Rick, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to help."

"I don't know that," she shot back, confused about where this was going. From both her end and his. "I'm married," she had to remind him and herself. "I can take care of myself. We have to take care of ourselves."

Rick only stood there blankly as she coldly shut her garage in his face. He felt rejected, but even worse, useless. If he couldn't help her, if he couldn't fix this, then what was his purpose? What good was he if he couldn't make this right either?

Defeated, he began to make his way back towards his house, but was met with the sight of these people – these fucking Alexandrians – and their inane daily routines of walking dogs, and reading books, and chatting away like the world hadn't ended out there. Like the world hadn't ended in there. Pete Anderson was going to kill his wife and everyone, including Jessie, was acting like everything was okay. Things were not okay.

He tried to stop himself, tried to compose himself and just go home, but he couldn't. He needed to fix this. He charged into Jessie's house to tell her as much, and found her standing at her mantle, crying.

"What are you doing?" she asked, annoyed with him for not taking no for an answer.

"You know, Sam asked for a gun to protect you."

Jessie could feel her heart breaking and her tears came harder. Not only did he know about her weakness, but he also knew that she had broken her kids in this mess. "You shouldn't be here."

"Jessie, in here, you can't see it, but it's the same. It's the same as out there. We have food and roofs over our head, but you don't get to just live. You don't get to put it off, or wish it away, Jessie. If you don't fight, you die." He gazed at her, seeing her helplessness and found all of his failures staring back at him. Noah… Tyreese… Beth… Hershel... Lori. "I don't want you to die." He saw a chance at redemption. "I can help you. I can keep you and your boys safe. I can." He saw his old life standing there, and he felt like he was scratching at it, trying to get back into it, and she wouldn't let him. "All you have to do is say 'yes.'"

Her hazel eyes met his blues and she felt her resolve waning. Maybe he could be her knight. "Would you do this for someone else?" she asked, the waver in her voice begging him to say no. "Would you do this for anyone?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He knew the answer, but he also didn't know how to stand there and tell this woman the truth when she needed to hear that she was special. So he looked her in the eye and lied. "No."

"Yes."

* * *

After hearing more than enough of Rick's garage conversation with Jessie, Michonne walked back into her home to find Carol sitting in their living room, quietly writing at the kitchen table. She appeared busy, and Michonne had a shift to prepare for, so she didn't make time stop and chat. She simply sent her a passing "Hello" on her way towards the staircase.

"Michonne," Carol called after her.

With a light sigh, she turned from the steps and went to greet her housemate. "You need something?"

"I was just going to say that I have to run out for a couple of minutes, and Judith is upstairs asleep. I'm not sure where Carl or Rick are, but could you keep an eye on her until I get back?"

Michonne couldn't help but wonder what her mysterious errand entailed, but she'd learned from Rick that there was no point in asking. "Of course."

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," she said, turning back for the stairs. "Judy's not just your responsibility."

"I didn't mean to make it sound like she's mine," she said, hoping she hadn't offended her friend. "I just know you have to head to work."

"It's fine, Carol."

"Hey," she called for her again, standing from her chair this time to follow after her. She didn't miss the way Michonne turned as if completely exasperated with her. "Are we okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" Michonne shook her head nonchalantly. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at Carol and this so-called act she'd been putting on for her and everyone else at Alexandria. She was over it. "If you're looking for Rick, you can find him at Jessie's."

"Is that what this is about?"

"Is that what _what's_ about?"

"I'm really sorry that this is happening," she returned sympathetically.

Michonne was scowling at her now, wondering just what it was she was pretending to apologize for. If anything, she should be sorry for implying that she was sitting around pining for Rick. "You don't need to be." With that, she turned to head upstairs, relieved when she heard the sound of her roommate leaving the house. Carol and Rick were officially on her last nerve.

She threw on her constable uniform as she headed into Rick's room to quickly check on Judith and make sure she was still asleep. The mere sight of her lightened Michonne's entire mood immediately, causing her to smile. She was so innocent, so peaceful. She reached down to run her fingers through the infant's soft hair, but the sound of glass breaking outside managed to snatch her attention away.

It was quickly followed by yelling, and her first thought was that walkers had somehow made it inside the walls. She hastily pulled Judith from her crib and headed downstairs to grab her sword, where the yelling got louder, and she could see people running down the street. Nicholas, Glenn, Rosita, Tobin. No one had weapons, they were just running. Finally, she went to the window to see just what they were running toward, and the image of Rick fighting with Pete came into view.

Michonne took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she tried to calm Judith's cries, realizing she'd snatched her out of her sleep for absolutely no reason. "I know, baby girl. I'm sorry," she whispered. She swayed in circles with her, but never took her eyes off of the spectacle outside. "The fuck are you doing, Rick," she muttered under her breath.

She watched the two of them wrestle one another, Pete choking Rick, Rick punching back. Jessie tried to intervene, and Michonne cringed in horror when Pete hit her so hard, she fell to the ground. Rick was right about one thing – the guy was an asshole. She'd overheard the allegation that Pete was abusing his wife, and she felt a little bad for thinking Rick only disliked him because he wanted Jessie. He was obviously a bad guy, and something needed to be done. But whatever Rick was doing wasn't going to help.

Still, she was going to stay there with Judith while they fought like idiots and let the chips fall where they may. But she saw Carl try to pull his dad out of the melee, only for Rick to push him away in a manner very similar to Pete. And as much as she understood he probably did so for Carl's protection, it alerted her to the fact that the two of them looked exactly alike out there. To the naked eye, Rick, covered in blood, trying to squeeze the life out of Pete was no different than the abusive husband trying to hold onto his family.

She made a beeline out of the house, still trying to calm Judith as she headed for Maggie's, as she seemed to be the only person not standing out there being unhelpful. She was thankful when her friend answered the door instantly.

"Hey, I was just about to come see you," she greeted her friend as cheerfully as she could. "I had-."

"Hey," Michonne cut her off hurriedly, already passing over Judith. "Can you take her for a few minutes?"

Maggie accepted the crying baby into her arms, but couldn't help but notice Michonne's obvious urgency. "What's goin' on?"

"I honestly don't know," she answered, turning back towards the commotion of the fight. "But Rick and Pete are about to kill each other and I need to get over there."

"Okay, go," she nodded, pulling Judith inside. "Go."

Michonne did just that, turning just in time to see Rick pull a gun on everyone. It wasn't his normal .357, so she knew it must have been one he'd been saving for a rainy day. And by god, it was pouring in that moment. She stopped in her tracks and watched him for a bit as she thought through her next move. She watched him rant and rave about how weak the Alexandrians were, how Deanna was ruining things. She considered trying to talk him down, but she wasn't sure her words could do anything at that point. They didn't do anything but argue anymore, and the last thing she wanted to do was antagonize him in this state.

He looked scary. She'd seen Rick covered in blood a few times, and never batted an eye. There was always a good reason behind it, and she was usually standing behind him covered in blood too. But this? This was different. Even if his words made sense, his actions were irrational, and she was certain he hadn't given a bit of thought to the fact that Carl was standing behind him watching. That these people didn't know him, and an outburst like this could get them all kicked out. He wasn't thinking at all, and that was what angered her more than anything.

She wasn't going to let him ruin this. Not for his kids, and not for himself. So as he continued to yell about fighting and dying, she calmly ran up to him with her fists balled up and delivered the hardest blow she could, effectively knocking him the fuck out.

* * *

_**4 months ago.**_

Michonne let out a silent but tired exhale as she fell back against Rick's legs, attempting to recover from her multiple orgasms in the previous twenty minutes. She had given him the ride of his life, wanting to leave him with a substantial going away present before she left for another two weeks. But it was Rick and his magical fingers on her clit that had her on the verge of exploding, over and over again. It was the best sex they'd had all month, only made hotter by the need to stay quiet in the cellblock. They way he stuck his tongue in her mouth to keep her from moaning only served to turn her on even more.

"Fuck," Rick quietly sighed as well, still holding onto her legs on either side of him.

"_Fuck_," she repeated with a smile, understanding the exact sentiment he was expressing. The sex between them was simply sublime. "I if I have to leave, I'm really glad it's on that note."

He closed his eyes and began to softly rub at her right leg with his left thumb. "You don't have to leave, you know."

"I do," she said, pulling herself up to look at him. "You know I do."

"It was worth a shot."

"I'd say you've gotten enough shots in for one night," she winked, finally dismounting from his lap to do some quick cleanup.

He watched in a daze as she moved around her cell in all her naked glory. Her back glistening with the sheen of her sweat; her tits bouncing as she stooped down to the floor and back up again; the slight jiggle of her ass as she stepped into a pair of panties before approaching her bed. He had a mind to fuck her again right then and there.

"Big spoon or little spoon," she asked, standing over him.

"I'm always the big spoon," he retorted matter-of-factly as he grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid toward the wall so she could climb in.

"I can name two instances off the top of my head where that's not true."

"You mean those instances where you changed our positions after we fell asleep?"

"That is neither here nor there." With a smile, she fell into her bed, and more specifically, into Rick's arms, letting his embrace warm her from the chill of the prison. With her back against his chest, nothing else in the world really mattered.

Rick felt similarly, and really hated the idea of them sleeping alone again for however long she would be gone. He had gotten so used to their sleepovers – even the ones where they kept their clothes on. It always felt odd when she left. "I think you're gonna find him this time," he declared quietly as his eyes fell closed. "I can feel it."

She smirked at the assertion, but hoped he was right more than anything. She was tired of this fight. But she couldn't give up, knowing she was fighting for. She would never be able to make a life with Rick if she was always looking over her shoulder for the Governor. And she had decided that a life with Rick was something she really did want. "We should sleep," she answered in a whisper, running her fingers along his forearm. "I leave early."

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't go to sleep. Why waste our last moments together ignoring each other?"

"Rick, I'm not staying up all night talking about pizza, or airplanes, or whatever random thing is on your mind tonight."

"You're tryin' to insult me, but I know it's only because you don't wanna leave me."

"You need help," she chuckled, shaking her head against their pillow.

"But seriously, I'm gonna find a way to implement Pizza Friday."

"I mean, we've got Spaghetti Tuesday, so…"

"So I can tell everyone I've got your support on this?"

"You've got my proxy," she grinned sleepily. She let her eyes fall closed, but was content to talk to him all night if he really wanted to. "You've just gotta find a cow."

"You think I can't?" he challenged her playfully. "Need I remind you that I've already corralled two horses and a pig?"

"No, no. The smell when you come in from outside is reminder enough."

He teasingly pinched the skin of her ribcage as he chuckled in response. "Watch yourself, or I'm gonna rescind my offer to teach you how to ride."

"Oh, okay," she answered, feigning indifference. "Like you've got anything better to do."

"I have several better things to do," he reminded her. "I'm feeding a prison full of people here."

"That is very important," she agreed.

His chuckle dissipated into comfortable silence, and he nuzzled his nose into her shoulder. He felt so unbelievably happy lying there with her. "You know, you and Daryl are the only ones here that understand why I had to step away from the whole leader thing. And I want you to know I appreciate you for it."

"I appreciate _you _for it," she returned quietly. "There's something very noble about knowing when you need a break."

"It just seems like a good time," he nodded. "We finally have some space to breathe. I like being able to concentrate on my kids."

"You deserve that." She continued to lazily run her fingers along his arm, playing with the hair there. "And if they don't understand that, forget them."

"That's a lot easier said than done, when I have someone like Carol looking at me like I'm losing my mind." The worst part about that was he was feeling more clearheaded than ever.

"Well… you said the two of you have always had issues, right?"

"We have..."

"Then don't spend too much time worrying about it," she advised. "She's still here. She loves you and trusts you. It may take her a while to catch up, but she'll come around."

He nodded against her back and let his eyes close as well. He didn't know if that was true of Carol, but Michonne was right that he didn't owe anyone any explanations. No one should have to apologize for how they chose to survive. "God, I'm gonna miss you."

"Stop saying that," she grinned sadly. She had that gnawing in the pit of her stomach, telling her she would miss him too, and she was trying to ignore it. "It's a couple of weeks."

"I know, but I just want you here. All the time."

"If I were actually here all the time, I guarantee you'd want me to leave."

"Yeah, that's probably true," he allowed with a sigh. "You are a bed hog."

She immediately elbowed him in the stomach, and turned her head back towards him to get his reaction.

"You're so violent," he groaned quietly.

"This is something you should know about me by now."

"I have to admit I don't like it so much when it's directed towards me."

"Yeah, I bet you don't," she quipped as she shifted in the bed to get more comfortable. She rested her cold feet against his leg, figuring he would flinch in response at the least, but he didn't react in the slightest. She really loved how comfortable he was with her. "Hey," she softly called back to him.

"Yes."

She pulled his wrist towards her face so that she could get a glimpse at his watch in the darkness. "So we've got about… four hours before I leave."

"Is there a reason you keep reminding me of this?"

"Because you're right." She threw the covers from both of their nearly naked bodies and hopped out of her bed spryly. "We shouldn't waste our time sleeping."

He sat up excitedly, hoping that meant she wanted to fuck again, but was confused when she began to put on clothes. "What… are we gonna do instead?"

"Get up," she instructed, throwing his jeans at him. "Let's go have breakfast."

"It's two in the morning, Michonne."

"Dinner?"

"I don't think we could consider it that either," he chuckled. Still, he did as told and quickly pulled on his pants and thermal undershirt.

"I'm trying to give you your Waffle House moment," she revealed, stepping into her slippers. "Don't ruin it."

With an amused grin, he followed her out of her cell and the two of them quietly made their way to the cafeteria, thankful that it was empty as usual at that time of night. "I always make it a point to eat at 'our' table," Rick commented casually as they continued into the kitchen. "Is that weird?"

"If it is, we're weird together, because I do the same," she giggled. She watched him disappear into the pantry and return a few seconds later with two canisters – one full of grits, the other containing bacon bits – and a can of milk. "Oh, are you taking over on this?"

"Yeah, my treat… if you don't mind," he smirked, placing his ingredients on the large empty counter in front of them. He then headed for their massive refrigerator and grabbed a tub of margarine and a pitcher of water. "While you're out there, maybe see if you can find a waffle iron."

"I'll see what I can do." She took it upon herself to hop up on the counter, out of his way, but close enough that she could see everything he was doing and carry on a conversation.

"Grits are Judith's favorite," he noted as he pulled a small pot from the collection near the stove. "Carl… I don't know whose kid he is sometimes. He doesn't like anything but waffles."

"He likes cereal," Michonne rolled her eyes knowingly. "It boggles my mind that he'd rather have cold, stale Frosted Flakes over a hot bowl of oatmeal."

"I told him the same thing. But I think his mother traumatized him with so many bad pancakes, he'd just rather have somethin' he can trust."

She chuckled in response, surprised to hear him speak so candidly about Lori. He did that sometimes, brought her up as if she were in the next room instead of the next life. And it never bothered her, but she always found herself pausing to make sure he didn't regret mentioning her. He seemed all right though, so she went with the flow. "Lori couldn't cook?"

"It was weird," he shook his head. "She made the best macaroni and cheese, and she had this recipe for smothered porkchops that made me forget my name, honestly. Pecan pie, Christmas ham… no problems. But let her get in the kitchen and try to fry an egg and it was a disaster."

"So I assume that means you made all the breakfasts back in the day."

"That would be a wrong assumption," he laughed. "Now you know why I have so much affection for Waffle House."

"You're so silly," she grinned, watching him get to work on their late night snack. It was so nice to sit there with him, sharing such a simple moment. It reminded her of when she first met Mike and she would sleep over at his apartment on a Friday night. They were practically married by the time everything fell apart, so she had forgotten what the beginning of a relationship felt like. Who knew she'd find herself there again after all this time?

"You want toast?"

She nodded back with a goofy grin on her face. "Yes, please."

He went back for the pantry and grabbed a loaf of their freshly baked bread that he knew he shouldn't have been using for some random meal. But Michonne deserved toast, and so she would have it. "You know Tyreese made this all by himself?"

She looked down at the loaf of bread he was slicing and then up at him, shaking her head. "It's cute that you believe that."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean Karen helped him," she revealed with raised eyebrows. "Apparently, she's been helping him a lot lately."

Rick stopped what he was doing to gaze up at Michonne, absorbing what she was truly implying. "Really?"

"Really," she smirked. "Maggie and I have had our eye on this for a while."

"On Tyreese and Karen?"

"And everyone else here," she giggled at herself proudly. "To be fair, Maggie is the one that knows everyone's business, and then she discusses with me because I'm good at keeping secrets."

"Except from me." Which he was glad for.

"Obviously."

"So how long has that been goin' on?"

"Not long at all," she confirmed, watching his hands do their work. "We're pretty sure it really just started this week, and they haven't even kissed yet, so…"

Rick laughed in amusement as he arranged their toast on a pan to go into the oven. "What else have you two busybodies found out?"

"Oh, let's see," she sighed, trying to think through their latest news. Michonne still didn't know a lot of the people from Woodbury, and she was fine with keeping it that way, but Maggie told all of their stories anyway. "Mrs. McLeod _really_ likes Hershel, apparently."

"Well everyone knows that."

"Oh, excuse me then," she retorted, pretending to be offended. "We did have a theory that Daryl may have a thing for Sasha, but I think that's been debunked at this point."

"Daryl as in Dixon?" Rick chuckled. He'd had full understanding since Hershel's farm that he belonged to Carol and vice versa. "Don't even poke that bear," he advised.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, I can't imagine that's true."

She kicked her leg out towards him, her foot making contact with his hip. "What bear, Rick?"

"The bear that is Carol when it comes to Daryl."

"But they're not together. Are they?"

"I couldn't tell you," he replied sincerely. Whatever they were transcended titles. "But how would you feel if you heard I liked someone else?"

"I'd probably wanna stab you," she shot back jokingly. "No, I don't know. I'd probably be some combination of annoyed and disappointed."

"Really?"

"Of course I would," she frowned. "What, you think I'd be happy?"

"No, of course not. I just didn't expect you to be honest."

She kicked him again, harder this time, knocking him away from her and the stove altogether. "There's only one of us in this room that's never lied to the other, so…"

"That's cold, but that's fair," he surrendered with a smile. He momentarily left his watch at the stove and approached her, resting his hands on either of her thighs. He lifted his head to leave a quick kiss on her lips, biting softly at her bottom one as he pulled away. "Won't happen again."

"It better fucking not."

* * *

Morning came to find Rick and Michonne had fallen asleep on the floor of the cafeteria kitchen. Her head rested comfortably against his shoulder, and they were surrounded by their empty breakfast plates. They could've and would've stayed that way forever if they hadn't been awoken by Beth's footsteps. She hadn't seen them, and immediately felt bad for interrupting their slumber.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to Rick, who'd opened his eyes first. "I had no idea anyone was in here."

He only shook his head slightly, trying to avoid waking Michonne, too.

"I think Carl is lookin' for you," she went on, tiptoeing around to prepare a bottle for the youngest Grimes. "He brought Judith to me about twenty minutes ago."

Michonne wanted to pretend she was still be asleep, hoping to avoid the inevitable end of their night together, but from what she could hear from Beth, the moment was over. She reluctantly opened her eyes to the morning. "What time is it?" she asked Rick.

He raised his arm over her head to take a look at his watch. "Almost seven."

With a big sigh, she lifted her head from him and smiled at Beth. "Hey."

"Hey," Beth shot back nervously, unsure of what to make of the two of them on the kitchen floor. "I'll be outta your way in just a minute."

"No rush," she yawned. "I gotta get outta here."

"You're leavin'?"

"As soon as I hop in the shower," she nodded, pulling herself up from the floor. She turned to Rick, still sitting there, and offered him a wistful grin. "I guess I'll see you when I get back?"

He looked up in disbelief that this was going to be her goodbye. His gaze shot to Beth, wondering if she was the reason for her skittishness, then back at Michonne. He shook his head at her. "I'll head out with you."

Before the two of them left, Beth made sure to tell Michonne, "You be careful out there."

"I will," she promised, following Rick out of the door.

Once they were in the empty corridor, he softly grabbed her wrist to stop her before they could reach their cellblock again. He had been thinking about something since the night before, and he didn't want to let her leave without speaking on it.

"What's wrong?" she frowned.

"Nothin'," he smiled tiredly. "I just… I was wonderin' if you've figured out what this is yet?"

She knew he was referring to the two of them, and it was the last thing she wanted to discuss right before she left. If she said the wrong thing, it would be all she thought about out there on the road. Alone. Where she needed to be thinking about finding the Governor. "I've thought about it," she admitted with a smirk.

When she didn't go on, he leaned against the closest wall and stared at her intently. "You're not gonna tell me?"

She shook her head and chuckled. "Is it okay if we wait until I get back?"

Waiting that long for an answer sounded like actual torture to him. But he didn't want to put pressure on her, given how easy everything had been up to that point, so he just nodded in agreement. "All right…"

She took his hand into hers, attempting to pull him back towards the cellblock with her, but she stopped short when he wouldn't budge. "Rick, come on."

"Go on," he nodded his head towards the exit. "I'll see you when you get back."

"Are you all right?"

"I am." She hadn't let go of his hand, so he pulled her back towards him, playing with her fingertips as she drew nearer. "I just don't wanna watch you leave."

She sighed shakily, feeling a weird tugging at her heart as she thought about walking away. Leaving never felt like this before, and she knew exactly why. This time, when she left, she would be leaving her heart with him. "This isn't supposed to be this difficult."

"Well it's your own fault."

"Yeah, I guess it is," she chuckled sadly. Hesitantly, she pulled from his grasp and headed for the door. "Stay safe."

With his head down, truly refusing to watch her go, he listened as her footsteps got further away, feeling almost silly for how much hated this. But he felt so adrift when she wasn't there. She was his home now. "Hey," he called out to her before she reached the door to C Block. She turned back with a curious look on her face and he smiled at her shyly. "I love you."

Her eyes widened and she felt as though her breath had been taken away in that moment. The last thing she ever wanted was some emotional goodbye - they were hard enough as it was. But she could feel the tears already stinging the backs of her eyes, and they were going to come hard soon. She scrunched up her face to try and stop them, but a smile took over instead. "I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
**"**I hit my limit."**

_**3½ months ago.**_

Exhausted from her day, Michonne slowly trudged her way through Cellblock C, heading straight for Rick's cell, not bothering to stop by her own to set down her supplies. She had been back for hours, and still hadn't seen Rick's face, and she was simply tired of waiting. Without hesitation, she pushed aside the covering to his cell and entered, relieved to see him lying in bed, reading.

"Hey, you," she called out to him with an expectant smile on her face.

He popped up excitedly at the sound of her voice, almost in disbelief that it was really her. She was back. She was home. "Hey," he grinned, jumping out of bed to pull her into a hug.

She reveled in his tight embrace, taking a deep breath as she inhaled the scent of his obviously recent shower. She was so happy to be back, even if only for a tiny moment. "God, I missed you," she breathed.

"Me too." He hugged her so hard, he lifted her off the floor, causing her to giggle in response. "It's been fifteen days, you know. Not fourteen."

"I know," she nodded regretfully once they pulled apart. "I ran out of gas, so… you know how that goes."

"I take it you didn't find him then," he looked down disappointedly, as he knew that meant she would be going back out there. And he wasn't sure how much more he could take of her leaving, with no real clue of whether she would return. He understood she needed the breaks, so he didn't ever protest, but it was definitely beginning to take its toll on him. He just wanted it to be over.

"I'm close," she said seriously. She lifted his chin so that she could look him in the eye again. "Which is why I'm going back out tomorrow."

He backed away from her touch, his happiness disappearing into a concerned grimace. "You're what?"

"I know," she nodded, understanding how shitty it was for her to drop such a bomb on him the second she walked in. "But I can't sit on my ass for another week while he gets further away."

"But... you just got here."

"Please don't make this harder than it is," she pleaded quietly, taking his hand. "I don't wanna do this, but I _have_ to. I have to fix this."

"I should go with you," he suggested stoically. "We should go out there together."

She couldn't imagine Rick going back out there after taking so much time off. He was so immersed in his farmer routine, he hadn't even been using his gun lately. She knew he was only going to slow her down. "I'm not sure if that's the best idea…"

"And I'm not sure it's the best idea for you to go back out there alone so quickly. Can't you just stay a little while?"

"Rick, I'll stay here forever once Philip is dead."

He liked the sound of that. Forever. He smiled sadly at her and nodded, knowing that she was going to do what she needed to do, whether she had his consent or not. So he might as well support her. "How far out are you goin'?"

"Athens," she revealed cautiously.

With a sigh, he turned away from her to take a seat on his bed, holding his forehead as he calculated just how far that was from the prison. "There's no way the roads are clear all the way out there."

"Rick, there's nothing you can say that'll discourage me from doing this."

He nodded, figuring as much.

"I'm gonna take Luna, if it's okay with you," she went on, referring to the horse he'd found and had been taking care of with Hershel. "It would save me a lot of time and trouble if I don't have to worry about gas."

"Michonne, you're a beginner," he reminded her of her novice status as a horseback rider. "You can't just hop on her tomorrow and think you're gonna ride to-."

"I went out with Maggie and Hershel today," she interrupted him to confess. She winced as she realized that she was just full of awful little surprises that she kept hurling at him. "I told them I needed to get as comfortable as possible, as quickly as possible, and they got me there. As close as they could, anyway."

"What do you… what are you talking about?" he frowned. "I thought you just got back."

She sat down beside him and took a deep breath. "I got back this morning. And I came by, but you weren't here," she spoke quickly in her own defense. "I looked everywhere I could for you, but… I just didn't have any time to waste, so when I didn't find you, I went to Maggie."

"I see." He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared down at the floor. "So I've been sitting here waiting for you on pins and needles, and you've been home all day…"

"I tried to find you, find Carl…"

"We just went to set some traps," he chuckled to himself ruefully. "Weren't gone more than half an hour."

"I wish I hadn't missed you," she submitted genuinely. His face was the only one she wanted to see, but the universe obviously had other plans. "But I'm here now."

"Yeah, until you leave."

"Rick, please don't be mad at me for this."

He wasn't mad. More than anything, he was sad, but then, it was easy to confuse the two. "I just… I don't want you to let this fight consume you, Kiddo." He smiled down at her as she held his arm and rested her head against his shoulder. "We have it good here. I want us to have the chance to enjoy it."

"I do too," she whispered. "I don't want us to get comfortable here, just for him to show up at our door and take it all away. Because then what?"

He nodded, affectionately rubbing his thumb along her hand. He didn't want to think about what happened if they ever lost the prison. It just wasn't an option. "Let's just… enjoy our night," he proposed with a small sigh. "Tomorrow's gonna be here before we know it."

She nodded against him, content to do exactly that. "Deal."

* * *

Tomorrow did come before they knew it, and Michonne awoke, much to her own surprise, to the back of Rick's head. Instead of him holding her, she had her leg wrapped around his waist, and her arm holding onto his torso for dear life. It was a wonder he could sleep, given how tightly she'd been squeezing him, and how hot it was between them. But he seemed completely comfortable, lightly snoring through his deep slumber.

She gently pulled her arm from underneath him and rested on her back for a moment, hating that the time had come for her to leave. She wasn't ready. She was never ready anymore, it seemed, and she hated that too. Their friendship turned romance had come out of nowhere, and she loved everything about it, except for the goodbyes. It had never been this hard, and now, it was nearly impossible. She still hadn't recovered from the last goodbye, where they'd exchanged 'I love you's. It was all she could think about for days on end, which was precisely the last thing she wanted when she left on a mission to find a psychopath. And here she was, about to do it again.

She couldn't say another goodbye.

She slowly climbed out of bed, so as not to disturb Rick, and began to gather the small bag she'd packed for her horseback trip. She couldn't take much, which she hoped meant she wouldn't stay away too long this time. She got dressed in the darkness and silence, praying that he didn't turn to find her trying to sneak out. She used to do the same back in the old days, when she'd have an early morning and Mike was still asleep. She would grab her clothes and run into the guest room, just to keep from waking him. It was for different reasons back then, but the result was the same. Leaving the man she loved.

Once she pulled on her socks, she turned for Rick, still fast asleep, and kneeled against her bed, gazing at the back of him. She smiled at the rise and fall of his body, the cadence of his breathing, all while doing her best to hold back tears. She lightly ran her fingers through his soft curls before leaving a kiss on the back of his head. "I'll be back soon," she promised in a nearly silent whisper. With that, she grabbed her shoes, her katana, and her bag, and disappeared from her cell.

* * *

_**Present day.**_

"Thank you," Michonne remarked quietly to Rosita as she observed her finish patching up Rick's superficial wounds. "You really didn't have to do this for him."

Rosita shrugged as she closed her first aid kid and stood to face Michonne. "I would want someone to do it for Abraham. Even if he was being a dick."

She smiled at the implication, but it fell as her eyes flitted down to Rick, lying on a mattress on the floor, completely unconscious. When she knocked him out, she knocked him out good. "I hope you never have to go through this with Abraham."

"Honestly, I already have." She softly squeezed Michonne's hand before heading for the door. "You guys can come back from this."

Michonne wasn't even sure she wanted to, but she smiled all the same, watching Rosita leave the small home. She took a seat on the floor in front of Rick, watching him in his state of unconscious. This was the only way she could stand to be near him now, it seemed. Where he couldn't speak or fuck up something else.

On his watch, she noted that it was only a little after 9:00pm, so she was probably in for a long night with him, whether he woke up soon or not. She stared at his bloodstained shirt, almost hating that they were in matching outfits. They were supposed to represent the same thing, and he was going around making them both look bad. She decided to help him out of his, figuring he would probably overheat in it anyway. She was always thinking of him, even when she didn't want to be.

She stared at his face as she slowly unbuttoned his top. He looked ridiculous with all those tiny bandages covering it, which made her chuckle at him. She let out a giant sigh as she pulled his sleeves from his arms. "You really fucked this up," she shook her head.

She continued down to his gun holster, rolling him towards her so that she could pull it from his waist. She threw both his shirt and belt on top of his jacket and tie in the corner, and then took a seat in the lone chair in the room. And she watched him.

Michonne thought of all those times she'd watched him sleep before, and how much happier those days were. How things were just so much simpler at the prison. He used to _love_ her, and now, they were like strangers for reasons she couldn't quite put together. There was obviously the part of him that had some affection for Jessie, and there was nothing she could do about that. But there was something else that had pulled them apart, and the fact that she didn't really know what was what hurt the most.

"I miss you," she whispered. She was caught off guard by the tear that rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. But a flood of them came, and she didn't bother to stop them. She'd been holding in her emotions for so long. Trying to stay strong for everyone else, when the fact was, she was sad. She was still sad about Beth, and Tyreese, and now Noah. She was sad that she was losing Rick. He'd actively decided to shut her out of his life, and he still hadn't even given her a reason.

But even so, she quickly sobered up, wiping her face with the tail of her shirt, and sat up straight. Rick didn't deserve her tears, and she wasn't going to shed any more for him.

* * *

After a while, there was a soft knock at the door, and Michonne tiredly picked herself up to answer, just praying that it wasn't Deanna. She wasn't sure she had any words left to defend Rick. Thankfully, it was Carl, holding a plate covered in aluminum foil, and two books in his arms. She smiled at the sight of him.

"Hey," she greeted him, pulling back to let him inside. "I figured you'd be in bed by now."

"There are too many people at our house right now," he shook his head. "This is from Carol," he added, handing over the warm plate. "She made spaghetti for me and Sam. Thought you should eat."

"Thanks," she said, accepting the offering, though she wasn't especially hungry.

"And I figured you had to be pretty bored over here, so I bought you a couple of books."

She glanced between the two options – the second Harry Potter book, or A Game of Thrones – and chuckled at him. He knew her well. "You're the best," she grinned.

He smiled a bit sadly and glanced into the room where his father was lying lifeless on the floor. He took a deep breath and gazed up at Michonne. "Can I see him?"

"Of course." She nodded him to go on in, and she followed behind, sitting her dinner and books in the chair she'd been occupying. She then joined Carl on the floor in front of Rick.

"Is he gonna be okay?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of his dad's wounded face.

"Physically? He'll be just fine," she assured him.

"But he might get kicked outta here."

"Deanna may try to have him kicked out," she admitted with a small sigh. "But if she does, we're not going down without a fight."

"Really?" he asked, turning towards Michonne now. "You'd fight for him after today?"

She nodded slowly as her eyes landed on Rick again. "I fought for him today," she reminded him. "I hit him because there was no other way to save him. But I'm always on his side."

Carl nodded thoughtfully at this information, already having a better understanding of what he'd witnessed earlier. "I don't wanna leave here."

She ran a hand over his head, through his endless locks and smiled at him. "We won't." Even if that meant overtaking the place, she wasn't going to let Carl and Judith lose another home. "I can promise you that much."

He wasn't sure how she was going to control that, but he believed her when she said it. "I'm really glad you were there."

She smiled in response, but still felt fairly regretful about everything he had to see. Everything he was seeing from his dad, especially. "I wish you hadn't been."

"It's better than having to hear about it from Ron or something," he shrugged. "And… if we're being honest, what he said made sense. He just didn't say it the right way."

"Well that's an understatement," Michonne chuckled as she brought her legs beneath her to sit cross-legged. "Which reminds me – where were you before everything happened?"

He looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights. "Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me," she mimicked him playfully. "You were supposed to come home after class to watch your sister. When I left the house with Rosita, you still weren't back…"

"Wasn't I?"

"Carl…"

"Okay, so…" he sighed nervously, knowing he would probably be in trouble for what he was about to say. "After class, I noticed Enid sneaking over the wall, so… I might've… maybe… followed her."

Michonne looked up to the ceiling in exasperation and exhaled dramatically. These Grimes boys were really doing a number on her sanity at that point. "And did you tell _anyone_ where you were going?"

He shook his head.

"Carl."

"I know," he quickly defended. "It was stupid, and someone should always know where I am, but… if I had stopped to tell you, then I would've lost her."

"Did you think she was leaving forever?"

"No," he admitted quietly. "But she's always leaving and I never find her, and I just wanted to see if maybe today was the day that I could."

"So you do this often," she realized, getting more agitated by the second. She was realizing that both Rick and Carl had been lying to her. Like father, like goddamn son. "I don't know what I'm gonna do with you."

"I'm sorry," he offered sincerely, gazing up at Michonne.

"You're just like your father," she noted, shaking her head. "Isn't Enid Ron's girlfriend?"

"She is."

So he was _really_ just like his father. She was running out of the energy to combat all of their nonsense. "I can't babysit you," she granted quietly. "I know that. But you know too much about this world to be running off without telling someone. Don't go losing your mind just because we're behind some walls."

Carl nodded in compliance, hating that he'd done anything to upset Michonne. "It won't happen again."

"Good," she said, lightly hitting his leg. "And stop chasing after girls that have boyfriends."

"I will," he promised again, looking back to his dad. "I wouldn't wanna end up screaming in the middle of the street, waving a gun."

They both laughed in response, but Michonne really did hate the mess Rick had put them all in. And he was passing it on to his son. "You're grounded, you know."

"What?" Carl's bright blue eyes looked at her worriedly, thinking she might be serious.

"No movies, no comic books, no guests, and no going over to Ron's or Mikey's for two weeks," she stated simply. "You come home, do your homework, your chores, and you spend your evenings with your family."

"But I won't-."

"Actions have consequences," she said, gesturing towards Rick. "These are yours."

He frowned at the idea of being on punishment in the apocalypse. "I don't get a warning first?"

"I'll warn you that if you keep protesting, we can make it three weeks."

He immediately relented with a chuckle. "Yes, ma'am."

"You didn't have to 'ma'am' me," she smirked. "But you should go on home. Get ready for school."

"Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?" he asked, beginning to stand from the floor.

"I'll be just fine." She stood up with him and guided him towards the door with her hands on his shoulders. "Straight home," she reminded him.

"Straight home," he promised with a nod. He would not be making any more detours any time soon. "It won't happen again."

"Good." She opened the door for him and playfully ruffled his hair again. "Thanks for the books."

"Thank you," he returned, glancing past her towards his dad again. He wrapped his arms around her torso and squeezed tightly, thankful that he had at least one parent that he could rely on to actually parent him. "For everything."

* * *

After nearly twelve hours of being comatose, Rick's eyes finally fluttered open, and he found himself lost in his surroundings. The pain from his fight the previous day had crept up on him, and he held his bandaged-covered face as the memory of what happened came back to him. His bandaged hand, his makeshift bed, in a room he didn't recognize. He sat up, trying to make sense of it, but could only chuckle at the chain of events that led him there, and how ridiculous it all was. He fell back into the strange pillow with an exasperated groan.

Michonne sat there watching him, glaring at him suspiciously when she realized that he wasn't going to notice her. "What's so funny?"

His eyes shot towards the sound of her voice, both scared and relieved to see her sitting in the corner, her arms and her legs crossed. "You were here the whole time?" he asked hoarsely.

"All night," she quipped. She was annoyed with him beyond belief, but she wasn't going anywhere. "What's so funny?"

He sat up fully this time, relaxing his aching body against the wall behind him, his elbows resting upon his raised knees. "It's… it's like the train car," he admitted, staring back at her. "After the whole thing, I'm still there."

"Deanna wanted you in here. Calm things down," she explained. "Rosita patched you up. Carl came by for a while, I sent him home." She stared at him angrily for a few beats, and then moved her chair closer to him. She was so sick of asking this question, but she _needed_ an answer. "Rick. What are you doing?" She watched his eyes dart downward, avoiding her question yet again, and she sighed, deciding she would keep pressing him if she had to. "We put Pete in another house," she said, figuring he would respond to that, at least. "You could've told me what was happening."

"It moved fast," he shook his head. "And then Noah…"

She had given him every opportunity to tell her everything, and she knew he knew it. She only stared back at him, almost in disbelief that he was trying to claim he didn't have the chance to tell her the truth.

"I couldn't tell you about the gun," he admitted reluctantly.

"No, you couldn't," she shot back, aggravated.

"You wanted this place…"

She ignored the fact that he was trying to subtly place the blame for his lies on her, and instead reminded him, "We had to stop being out there."

"Well," he returned, his eyes studying the empty, boxy room they were sitting in, "we're here."

"Well," she scoffed at his belligerence. "You just said you weren't."

He shot a look her way, and was going to comment on her using her previous profession as a lawyer to use his words against him. But the door swung open, and he watched as Glenn, Carol, and Abraham entered the unfinished home.

"Where'd you get the gun?" Michonne wanted to know, not caring that they'd walked in on their discussion.

"You took it, right," Carol quickly answered for him. "From the armory?" Rick stared at her blankly, understanding what she was doing, but he was not amused. "That was stupid," she went on. "Why did you do it?"

It took him a moment to recover from being thrown under the bus, but he eventually answered, "Just in case…" He glanced at Michonne, knowing that she knew there was more to the story than that.

"Deanna's planning to having a meeting tonight," Glenn declared. "For anyone who wants to."

"To kick Rick out?" Abraham questioned.

"To try," Carol replied.

"We don't know that," Glenn inserted, shaking his head. "Maggie's with Deanna right now, she's gonna try to find out what it is."

"At the meeting, you say you were worried about someone being abused and no one was doing anything about it," she suggested plainly. "You say you took a gun just to be sure that Jessie was safe from a man who wound up attacking you. You say you'll do whatever they want you to; just tell them a story that they wanna hear. That's what I've been doing since got here."

Glenn seemed bothered by that information, but Michonne was the one to speak on it. Carol hadn't only been spinning a story for the Alexandrians, but for their own family as well, and she was over it. "Why?" she asked her.

"Because these people are children, and children like stories."

Abraham knew Michonne would want to respond, but he didn't want to lose focus on the problem at hand, which was that Rick was on the verge of being exiled. "What happens after all the nice words and they still try to kick him out?"

"They're guarding the armory now," Glenn informed them.

"We still have knives," Carol said, staring at Rick. They were the only two that knew they had more guns, and she wanted to keep it that way. "That's all we'll need against them."

"Tonight, at the meeting, if it looks like it's going bad, I whistle. Carol grabs Deanna, I take Spencer, you grab Reg," Rick said, pointing to Michonne. "Glenn and Abraham cover us, watch the crowd-."

"We can _talk_ to them," Michonne cut in.

"Yeah, we will," he promised. "If we can't get through, we take the three of them and say we'll slit their throats."

"Like at Terminus," Glenn noted, already hating the idea.

"No, we just tell 'em," Rick defended himself. "They give us the armory… and it's over."

Glenn wasn't sure what was happening, or why Rick seemed to decide to finally lose it once they were somewhere safe. When it happened at the prison, he did his best to understand why – he'd just lost his wife. But to see it happening again, he had to wonder if Rick just preferred chaos for some reason. "Did you want this?" he had to ask.

"No," he answered softly, shaking his head. "I hit my limit. I screwed up," he shrugged. He looked to Michonne, knowing she had taken the brunt of that, and he never meant for that to happen. "And here we are," he said to her, referencing her previous point. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna sleep some more."

Michonne got up from her chair to follow the other three out of the door, but she mainly wanted to catch Glenn and get a read of where he was with things. She could tell he wasn't as on board as the other two. Once Carol and Abe were out of earshot, she softly grabbed his shoulder, both of them stopping in the street. "What do you think about all this?"

He let out a small sigh, shaking his head as he gazed up towards Deanna's house. "I think it's a good thing you knocked him out when you did, or tonight would be pointless."

"So you think he's got a chance tonight? Of staying?"

"Yeah, if we don't kill everyone," he frowned. "Or I don't know, maybe that's wishful thinking."

"Maybe it is," she admitted, not really having the answer herself. She wanted to believe that they were better than that now, that they could be civilized, but the world seemed determined to prove that theory wrong. "Either way, you don't have to do anything you don't wanna do," she assured him.

"I trust Rick with my life," he said seriously, looking Michonne in the eye. "I always have. But… I don't know if I trust that guy in there."

She frowned in concern, but she couldn't blame him. The guy that was waving the gun around the day before was not the leader they had come to know and follow. "Don't count him out yet, okay?" She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "He's come back from worse."

"You're right," he nodded. "In the meantime, whatever _you_ want us to do tonight, I'm in."

She offered a soft smile in reply, appreciating that he trusted her judgment, even if he wasn't 100% on board with Rick at the moment. She would make it her mission to get them on the same page. "Thank you."

With that, she turned to go back inside the house where Rick thought he was going to go back to sleep. But they hadn't finished their conversation from earlier, and he wasn't getting any rest until they did.

_Let's play the blame game, I love you more  
__Let's play the blame game for sure  
__Let's call out names, names, I hate you more  
__Let's call out names, names for sure_

"Get up," Michonne demanded as she walked back into the house she'd spent all night in, slamming the door behind her.

Rick turned to her, dazed and confused by her sudden reappearance. "What?"

"Get _up_," she repeated, kicking the thin mattress beneath him. "I'm sick of these lies. You're gonna be honest with me."

"I've said everything I have to say." He turned back towards the wall and fell back into his pillow. "You can lecture me later."

She knew he was in pain, so she refrained from punching him again, but she quickly stooped down and snatched his pillow from beneath his head, hitting him repeatedly, to get out her frustration. "Get. up. now."

"All right, all right," he relented, slowly climbing out of the bed as he shielded himself from the blows. "Stop!"

_I'll call you bitch for short  
__As a last resort and my first resort  
__You call me motherfucker for long  
__At the end of it, you know we both were wrong_

She hit him one last time for good measure and then dropped the pillow next to him before going to stand near the window. "Speak."

He stood up and moved to the other side of the room, away from her aggression. "About what?"

"Tell me the truth. Why didn't you tell me Pete was hitting his wife?"

He gave her a sarcastic glance, as if she should've known the answer to that question. "When I told you Jessie thought you didn't like her, you completely dismissed it."

"So because I didn't respond to one stupid ass assertion, you thought I wouldn't care that she was being abused? That I wouldn't do my job?"

"I just… I don't know," he sighed. "You seemed jealous that I was even speaking to her, I didn't wanna bother you with it."

"Jealous?" she nearly yelled.

"Even the day we got here, when you found out she cut my hair, you just had such a strange reaction to it."

"Because after everything we've been through, I don't see how you can be so fucking dumb!" She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly through puckered lips. "I can't believe you think I'm so shallow that I wouldn't help this woman in need because I miss your dick or whatever the fuck you're trying to imply. You're unbelievable."

"All right, if that wasn't the case, then I apologize," he replied hoarsely. "I should've told you."

"Is this what you and Carol have your secret meetings about? Figuring out how you're gonna save the helpless white girl without making poor old Michonne sad? Because last time I checked, I don't need a goddamn thing from you, Rick."

"Yeah, you've made that perfectly clear," he quipped. "Thank you, though, for the reminder. Again."

"You're such a bitch sometimes," she chuckled angrily. After all that time on the road, getting along just fine, it had suddenly become his favorite thing to throw their breakup in her face. "Go ahead, tell me how I ruined everything."

_But I love to play the blame game, I love you more  
__Let's play the blame game for sure  
__Let's call out names, names, I hate you more  
__Let's call out names, names, for sure_

"Well you did." He crossed his arms over his chest, looking her square in the eye from across the room. "Everything was great between us, even when nothing else was. And you… _you_ kicked me while I was down."

"That wasn't me kicking you, Rick. I was trying to keep us from drowning."

"Good job," he nodded, his eyebrows raised. "We're doing great."

She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm as she began to take off her jacket. It had gotten hot in there in all her anger. As she straightened out her shirt, she commented, "So I guess it's a good thing I got you to Alexandria so you could have your pick of all the married women to flirt with and stroke your ego back to health."

"Are you insane?" he stared back at her incredulously. "I'm the one that got _you_ here."

"You would still be sitting in a barn if it weren't for me!"

"And you'd be sitting right there with me if I hadn't agreed to come! I did this for you, Michonne. Even after everything, I came here because I knew how much it meant to _you_."

She paused for a moment, processing what that meant. And how much it hurt to know that he was thinking of her then, but had apparently stopped thinking of her now. "So knowing full well how much this meant to me, you still acted like a fucking fool out there last night. Good to know."

"Michonne…"

"No, you know what?" she sighed. "You, and Carol, and Jessie… you have fun playing your silly ass games. You get kicked out? We'll see how fast either of them follow after you," she gestured towards the gates. "And you better hope Jessie brings her sons, because I'm not letting you take Judith and Carl either."

His jaw clenched at the thought of her trying to keep his kids from him. "They're my kids too, you know."

"Then maybe… I dunno, just maybe, you should act in their interests instead of for the lady you met four weeks ago!"

"Leave Jessie out of this."

"You first," she taunted coolly.

_Things used to be, now they're not  
__Anything but us is who we are  
__Disguising ourselves as secret lovers  
__We've become public enemies_

"If I leave, they're coming with me," he said just as calmly. He let his arms fall to his sides and walked towards her confrontationally. "And if we're being honest, you probably would too."

"I suggest you get outta my face," she warned, looking him dead in the eye. He moved in closer, making the space between them so small, she could feel his breath on her nose. "I'm serious, Rick."

As his eyes bored into hers, he could feel the heat intensifying between them with every breath each of them took. "You gonna knock me out again?"

"I might."

He looked her up and down, as if he were sizing up whether he could take her in a fight. But he had no interest in actually fighting her. He wanted to fuck the shit out of her. "I miss you," he declared in a raspy whisper.

"You're the one that left," she answered in a matching tone, resting her head against the wall to try and escape his stare.

He placed his hands on her hips, eyeing her lips as he pinned her against the wall. "If you want me to stop, tell me now."

She responded by taking a deep breath and moving in to kiss him herself. Her lips covered his and his tongue wrestled hers in a messy, angry kiss that left both of them breathless. They hadn't had any true physical contact since the prison, and it showed in the urgency of their embrace. They were practically clawing at one another, Michonne gripping the hair at the back of Rick's neck as he impatiently pulled open the buttons of her shirt.

He pulled out of their kiss as her lacy black bra came into view, her breasts already spilling out of it as he squeezed them excitedly. He snatched one of the cups down completely, and he pushed her back against the wall as he lowered his mouth to her nipple, chaotically licking and sucking at the piercing he had come to love so much. His fingers reached beneath her underwire to fondle the other, Michonne softly moaning in response to the stimulation.

Without thinking, she grabbed a handful of his curls and pulled him back up to face her. She simply didn't have time for a lot of foreplay. She wanted his tongue in her mouth and his dick inside her as quickly as possible. "Hurry," she whispered before he pulled off his shirt and they were chest-to-chest as he kissed her again. She palmed the bulge in his pants, feeling an excited flutter in her stomach at how hard he was for her.

The two of them wrestled to the floor, Michonne bent over Rick's mattress on all fours and him just behind her, unbuttoning his jeans to free his throbbing dick. She hurriedly unfastened her pants as well, and Rick snatched them down, loving the sight of her beautiful naked ass staring back at him. He gently fingered her from the back, caressing her moist folds, just to make sure she was good and wet. He made no hesitation of licking her juices from his fingers, and then squeezed her plump ass as he pulled her towards him, ready to enter her.

He was so close. So fucking close. He rubbed the tip of his cock against her awaiting lips, and was just about to penetrate when they both heard the sound of the door opening.

Michonne whimpered in frustration as Rick quickly pulled out, and they both sat on the bed in an attempt to straighten themselves up. But it was no use. Carol had already caught them, gasping slightly at what she'd obviously interrupted.

"I'm so sorry," she said, instantly turning out of the door.

As if Michonne wasn't annoyed enough at Carol already, she couldn't believe she had the nerve to be a cockblocker too. Moment ruined. With a sigh, she buttoned up her shirt and pulled herself from the bed.

"You're not leaving, are you?" he looked up at her as she fastened her pants, which didn't help in his effort to get his erection down.

"Of course I am," she frowned with a small chuckle. She shook her head at the fact that she was really about to fuck him, despite how mad she was at him. Maybe even because of it. "We probably would've regretted this anyway."

"I find that hard to believe." They had already softened their stances against one another, which he was glad for. "We're just makin' up for lost time."

She only smirked at him as she bent over to grab her jacket from the floor. "I'll see you later, Rick."

_We walk away like strangers in the street  
__Gone for eternity, we erase one another  
__So far from where we came  
__With so much of everything, how did we leave with nothing?_

* * *

Lyrics: "Blame Game" – Kanye West &amp; John Legend (My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy)


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Woohoo, I'm so glad everyone liked the last chapter! That was one I was really excited to get to, because I feel like Michonne has been holding a lot in since Rick started acting like a dumbass. So she finally got to get a bit off her chest. And he did too, I guess, but whatever homie. I love how you guys all took to the line about Rick claiming they were his kids too. I feel like I was channeling Mrs. Doubtfire without even meaning to, haha. And Michonne and my precious baby Carl are always my favorite scenes to write. Babe Malf, I also feel like the writers really neglected them in 5B, so I wanted to make sure to show that Mama Michonne is still running shit at Alexandria. Even while she's tending to the giant baby that Rick currently is, she's got the actual kids on her mind too, lol.

Ugh, you guys are all so great, and I seriously cannot thank you enough for your feedback on this. It makes writing this so much fun.

As for this chapter, all I can say is... writer's block is a punk ass bitch. I didn't have to work today and it _still_ took me all day to get this chapter even in the vicinity of where I want it. But the greatest moment of the season is contained in these here pages, so there's that! Hope you can enjoy. –Ash

* * *

**Chapter 9  
**"**It feels like there's a 'but' in there…"**

_**Present day.**_

Carol took her time heading back into the house once Michonne left. She chatted with Tobin, did a lap around the block, stopped by the pantry for some chocolate. She wanted to give Rick ample time to do whatever he needed to do. The last thing she wanted was to walk in on him beating off or anything equally embarrassing to them both. Seeing his ass bent over Michonne was enough to last her a lifetime. She also knocked on the door this time, but when he didn't answer, she cautiously decided to go on in. Thankful that he seemed to have gone back to sleep.

She took a seat on his bed and gently shook him awake. "Wake up."

Rick pulled himself out of his catnap haze and sat up to look at Carol. She was about the last person he wanted to see, especially given what she had just ruined, but he faced her anyway, waiting for her to speak.

"It's good what happened last night," she declared in her usual soft tone. "We have more cover now. All of them think you've been found out. That it's over." She revealed one of the guns they'd stolen from the armory weeks ago and handed it over to Rick.

He only stared for a moment, contemplating whether he actually wanted to take it. Whether it was worth it to continue this rouse, given everything that had happened. "Why didn't you wanna tell them we had more guns?" he asked, deciding to accept the pistol.

"Michonne stopped you," she replied, still a bit surprised by what she'd done. "She knocked you out."

"I deserved it," he admitted freely.

"Well it _was_ stupid."

"She's with us," he defended her, though he wasn't completely sure that was true. He figured if push came to shove, she would have his back, but he just wasn't certain he hadn't used up all his good will with her. "Glenn is…"

"I didn't tell them about the guns just in case," she echoed the same thing he'd said to the group earlier that morning.

Rick let out a soft sigh as he looked up to the ceiling contemplatively. He was exhausted by this plan. The lies were draining, and they were ruining the relationship he held most dear outside of his children. It wasn't worth it. They hadn't gained much, and he was losing everything. "I don't wanna lie anymore," he told Carol seriously.

"You said you don't wanna take this place," she recalled. "_And_ you don't wanna lie?" She shook her head at him wanting to have his cake and eat it too. "Oh, sunshine. You don't get both."

He gazed back at her, ignoring her condescension, and considered what that meant for his relationship with Michonne. Maybe everyone else wasn't ready to know the truth, but she didn't deserve what he'd given her. Not after everything she'd stood by him through. There were times when he could barely stand, quite literally, and she was still there. Through the hallucinations, the church massacres, the nights when he just needed a friend. "I can't lie to Michonne anymore," he appended, not waiting for Carol to react. "I'm gonna tell her everything."

"I thought you two were done," Carol frowned as she recounted what she'd just witnessed from the two of them. "I thought you liked Jessie."

"I thought so too," he nodded in reply to both allegations, looking down. "But then I'm not so sure I've been actually thinkin' _straight _since we got here. Maybe even before."

She was disappointed to hear that. In her opinion, Rick had been thinking more clearly than ever in the past few months. "So are you and Michonne... back together now?"

He shook his head, knowing that they hadn't actually resolved much of anything before Carol walked in on them. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. "I love Michonne."

"It feels like there's a 'but' in there…"

"_But_," she admitted, catching his eye, "I know she's got this… this hold on you. You're not you when she's around."

He exhaled softly, knowing that she was right, to some degree. He was so much better with Michonne. "Maybe I'm who I should be."

* * *

"So that's everything Gabriel said to Deanna," Maggie sighed, setting down a cup of coffee for Michonne before taking a seat across from her. "Glenn thinks we should talk to Deanna, but I don't know if letting her know that I know is our best play right now."

"I mean, we're obviously not her favorite people right now," she agreed, beginning to stir a lump of sugar into her coffee. "No need to fan the flames."

"So you think it'll be okay if we just tell Rick for now?"

"I think _you_ should tell him," Michonne nodded. "Yes."

Maggie frowned in response. "Why me?"

"It's your news to share." She took a sip of her coffee and kept her eyes on the table as she set it back down. "Besides, I think I've delivered him enough bad news to last a lifetime."

"I thought you said you finally talked," she stared back at her puzzled. "What the hell happened?"

"We did," she confirmed with a nod. "Or we yelled a lot. I don't know," she sighed heavily, her fingers running along the handle of her mug. "He's just so... inscrutable."

Maggie gazed at her blankly, trying to hide her disappointment, but the truth was, if Michonne couldn't figure Rick out, the rest of them had no chance. "Well how did your conversation end?"

"It didn't... really," she rolled her eyes. "We were interrupted."

"By Deanna?" she asked cautiously. When Michonne shook her head, she asked in a whisper, "Jessie?"

"No," she returned, thanking god that hadn't been the case. "Carol walked in on us... resolving things."

"Wait," Maggie's green eyes widened as she caught onto her friend's coded language. "You and Rick were..."

Michonne shrugged, avoiding her surprised stare. "It was very much a heat of the moment sort of thing."

"…And how far did you get before Carol came in?"

She exhaled sharply, almost hating to relive that moment. "I'm pretty certain this is the only time this phrase has ever been used truthfully, but... just the tip."

"Nooo," Maggie gasped, wincing at the thought. "Damn it, Carol!"

"I was pissed."

"As you should've been."

Michonne laughed to herself, knowing she had no business trying to screw Rick anyway. Not with the way he'd been acting. "I guess I'm glad we didn't go there," she admitted begrudgingly. She still wanted to be mad at Carol for it. "But it definitely reminded me how much I've missed him."

"I told you."

"What did you tell me," she frowned up at her, already indignant at the notion that she was wrong about something.

"Back at the church, when you said y'all were takin' a break, I told you you were gonna regret that. And you said what?"

"I said that everything would be fine," she recalled dryly.

"And is everything fine?"

"It is not," Michonne relented, looking her in the eye. "But I don't see how that's my fault."

"Well what did you think would happen when you told a broken man that you didn't wanna be with him?"

"That is not what I said!" she defended herself loudly. "Are you kidding me?"

"I guarantee that's what he heard," she challenged her softly. "And when a person tells you that you've hurt them, you don't get to decide that you didn't."

Michonne exhaled frustratedly, unsure of why she had to pay for what Rick misconstrued. "I don't know how many different ways I can prove to him that I didn't go anywhere."

"Well men are… men. So maybe you should just say it."

Michonne stared back at her pensively. In her mind, actions always spoke louder than words, but perhaps Rick really was that obtuse. It was entirely possible that he was just too blinded by his massive range of emotions to actually see it; he needed to hear it. "Maybe so."

* * *

After getting washed and fed and revitalized, Rick made the decision to go by Jessie's house, realizing that he had no idea how she was faring in all the chaos he'd created. He turned her life completely upside down in the span of about an hour, and then wasn't there to pick up any of the pieces. It was only appropriate that when he approached her home, she was standing in her front window, trying to fix the mess he'd made.

"You should go," she said, seeing him come up her steps. She looked worried. She always looked worried, he had begun to notice.

"I just wanted to check on you," he offered sincerely. He also noticed that she had a bruise under her left eye that wasn't there the day before. "Your eye."

She shook her head dismissively. "He did it when it was happening. It wasn't you." When she realized he wasn't going to leave, she insisted. "People shouldn't see us talking right now."

"I'm not sorry I did it," he confessed. As much as he knew some things could have been handled better, there was no doubt about the fact that Pete had to get away from his family, and he accomplished that, if nothing else. "No matter what happens. Or what I have to do." He turned to leave, as she requested, but she stopped him before he could go.

"Don't turn around, Rick," she said, still antsy about being seen together. "You were right."

He left without saying anything else, mostly because he didn't know what to say. He had gotten used to feeling so many things around her, and now, nothing. His mind was like a blank slate. He was relieved that she seemed all right, that he wouldn't have to watch someone else die on his watch. But that overwhelming need to fix her, to save her, to take care of her, was gone. He just wanted to go. So he did.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set, which meant the town hall meeting to decide Rick's fate was upon them. Michonne wanted to get there early, and show that they were taking things seriously, but when she arrived to Rick's bedroom, she found him sitting on his bed, seemingly lost in thought. She didn't want to disturb him, but she also wanted to make sure he knew that it was time. "Rick?" she called out to him softly. "You ready?"

He looked at her, realizing she had used those same words and that same tone when they arrived at Alexandria. Now, he was on the verge of exile, and he was just as scared now as he had been then. It was a strange turn of events. He remembered how happy she was then, and how he'd slowly stripped her of that. "Carol, Daryl, and me," he began to confess as Michonne slowly walked into the room, eyeing him suspiciously, "we worked it out together. Carol took three guns from the armory. I still have one, she still has one." He gazed at her apologetically as he came to understand that he'd risked their entire friendship for something ridiculous. Something that didn't mean nearly as much to him as she did. "We lied to you because I wasn't sure how you'd take it. What you'd do." He handed over the one he had left, wanting her to know that he was done with it.

Disappointment washed over her as she threw her jacket to the bed. It hurt to know that he didn't trust her, still, after all this time. "You think I'd try to stop you?"

He lowered his outstretched hand when he realized she wasn't going to take the gun. "Well you did hit me over the head…"

"That was for _you_," she shot back. "Not them."

He rose from his bed and made his way to where she stood by the window. A much different approach than the one from earlier that morning. He was a man that had recognized his mistakes and that he had no reason to be angry at her for them. This was his doing. "I was afraid you'd talk me out of it," he admitted, looking her in the eye. "You could've."

"We don't need them here," she said, her tone also dramatically different than the one from a few hours ago. "I don't need my sword." He saw the happiness on her face, and he wanted it too. He wanted her. So much so, he couldn't hold her gaze, for fear of getting lost in it. "I think you can find a way," she went on. "_We_ can find a way." She didn't take her eyes off of him, knowing she was finally seeing the man she loved again. "And if we don't? I'm still with you."

His only response was to stare at her.

"Something's gonna happen," she prophesized. She understood that the naïveté of these people, combined with Rick's hot-blooded nature, was already a recipe for disaster on its own. "Just don't _make_ something happen."

He attempted to hand over his gun once more. It symbolized, to him, everything that had kept them apart since they arrived, and he wanted her to know, without question, that he was with her too. But she understood, as she always did, what happened and why. That was all she ever wanted, and she didn't need to take anything from him to do that. She gently lowered his hand, letting him know that he could keep it. They had other things to tend to.

She grabbed her jacket and headed towards the door. "Don't be too long."

* * *

_**2 months ago.**_

Michonne stared at Rick gloomily, doing her best not to cry at the sight of him lying there in pain. His fight with the Governor had taken an obvious toll on his body – he'd been grazed by a bullet, his face bloody and bruised – but she knew his deepest wounds were on the inside. His spirit, his hope. The Governor broke him, just like he'd broken her.

She was so silly to think they could ever truly be happy. Running around the prison on cloud nine. All those nights she spent with Rick in her bed when she should've been out on the road. Taking breaks for what? To try and make a relationship happen? And even that was no cakewalk. She felt like she was never at the prison, but somehow she was there too much. It was a cruel dichotomy.

She was so relieved that morning when she found Rick and Carl, she didn't think she would ever stop smiling. But she was quickly coming down from that high as she took in the mess they were in. No food, no protection, no weapons. No Judith. She had never really taken to Rick's daughter, not the way she did with Carl, other than a few smiles in passing, but it hurt all the same. Everything hurt. She found herself sniffling, and it was only then that she recognized she was crying.

"What are you doing over there?" Rick croaked out, not needing to open his eyes to know how far away she was.

She looked up surprised, figuring he'd been asleep for some time. "What?"

"We have this big bed and you're sitting in a chair," he noted with a hoarse exhale. "Why?"

"I don't know," she tried to smile as she wiped her face. "You need a bed more than I do right now."

He could hear the sadness in her voice, so he opened his eyes to look at her. "You okay?"

She nodded, even though she knew she wasn't. "I just wish I could've fixed it before it came to this."

"It wasn't on you to fix, Michonne."

"Then why do I feel like such shit?" She swallowed hard, blinking back a fresh set of tears as she gazed up at the ceiling of the dark room. "If I'd paid just a little more attention two days ago… a month ago… three months ago."

He hated hearing her talk that way. Especially when he was the one who'd failed to protect everyone. He was the leader, after all, but he'd decided to be a farmer. He'd let this happen, and she was blaming herself. "Can you come here?" he requested softly.

She reluctantly picked herself up and joined him at the edge of the bed, sitting cross-legged at his feet. "How's that?"

He closed his eyes again, hating to see the literal distance between them, mirroring the figurative one. "You know, I didn't say anything when you left that last time without saying goodbye."

She nodded, recalling that when she returned, he was just as happy to see her as always. She avoided him by going right back out with Daryl and Sasha. Then going back out again with Daryl and Ty, and the new guy, Bob. In fact, this was the first time they'd been alone in a long time. No wonder she felt so odd around him. "What do you want me to say?"

"You stayed gone a long time too," he added with a sigh. "And it just seems like you've been tryin' to pull away, and I'm not sure why…"

"Scared," she chuckled to the quiet room, closing her eyes as well. "I don't know."

"Scared of me?"

"Scared of _me_," she quickly assured him. "That feeling that I got whenever it was time to say goodbye to you was terrifying."

"Can you tell me about it?" he asked. He slowly sat up, trying not to agitate his broken ribs in the process.

"I don't know if I can," she sniffled. "It's like… I dunno…"

"Michonne…"

"What did you feel when you saw the Governor pull me and Hershel out of that truck?" she asked cautiously.

"It felt like I died," he returned without hesitation. "I actually felt my soul leave my body for a moment, and this coldness crept in. And I just kept vacillating between absolute terror and resignation. It was so odd."

"Hmm."

He hated how cryptic she was being. She had been quiet and cagey with him, he realized, ever since she'd gotten back. "If I did something…"

"You really didn't," she promised, trying to offer a comforting smile. "You're perfect."

"Then what?" he pressed. "Why are you sitting at the edge of the bed like you don't know me?"

"I just… I don't know," she sighed.

"Stop saying that. You do know."

"It just feels like maybe we should put this on pause for a bit." Her big sad brown eyes locked on his, hoping he would understand what she was trying to say. She loved him, probably more than she'd ever be able to say, but it was hard for her to do that with everything else they had going on. It felt like they were paying the price for their happiness, and she couldn't afford it at the moment.

"On pause?" The disappointment in his voice was evident.

She nodded. "I think… we should just focus on survival. On our next move. Find a place where we can breathe, whatever that means. Whatever that entails."

"It can't entail us being together?"

"Rick…" she exhaled again.

"No, you're right," he pretended to agree, running his hand over his tired face. He couldn't be surprised by it. He'd failed her, and everyone else, and it made sense that she didn't want him anymore. He laid back and let his eyes fall closed once more.

"I saw your footprints when I left the prison," she acknowledged quietly. "And for a while, I purposely went in the opposite direction. I made the conscious decision not to follow you."

The idea that she was going to deliberately abandon him only saddened him more. He swallowed hard, nervous to ask, "What changed your mind?"

"You never would've done that to me," she said, her voice breaking. "And I'm a piece of shit, because it took me a long time to think twice about doing it to you." Her face began to flood with tears and she was crying for what had to be the fifth time that day. "I'm so sorry," she said, dabbing her face.

"It's okay if you were thinking of you," he replied softly. It still hurt, but he got it. "You lost somethin' back there, too."

"I don't know why I was so willing to add you to the list," she sniffled. "But I need you to know that I'm with you, Rick. Anything you need, anything Carl needs… I'm here."

He wiped the tear that had escaped his own eye and went falling into his ear. "Was it the 'I love you' that scared you? Was that too much?"

"No," she laughed beneath her tears. She hated that he thought he'd done something wrong. He'd done everything right. It was just the circumstances that weren't. "That was the only thing that kept me going some days, Rick."

"Is it the beard? I'll shave if it really means that much to you."

She chuckled genuinely this time, already looking forward to the day they could breathe again. She really did love this man.

"I wish I'd known the last time was the last time," he went on. "I would've held out longer."

"Stop it," she shook her head.

"I would've talked more…"

"You can still talk to me."

"I really wanted to teach you how to ride that horse." He began to wistfully recount all the things they never got around to doing. "You were supposed to make me dinner. We could've had a picnic at some point in the summer. Maybe you could've finally held Judy… talked to her a little. She was always so happy when you walked in the room. She was like me in that way."

"Rick…"

"We never did have that poker rematch," he recalled. "And you know, Maggie told me, just last week, she said we should have some sort of double date when you got back and everything was normal again." He could only scoff at the idea of _normal_. He would never see that again, he knew. Normal was waking up to fight the dead now. Anything else was just some strange fiction. "I told Carl this morning, I know it's never gonna be like it was. But thank you for letting me pretend for a while. With you."

She didn't know how to reply to anything he was saying. Couldn't tell whether he was angry or sad or sincere. She figured he probably didn't even know himself. Maybe a combination of everything.

"Can you just lay here with me?" he asked, his gravelly Southern drawl thick with gloom. "We can be silent."

"Is that what you want?" she asked, knowing that he probably didn't. Silent wasn't his way. "To be silent?" She quickly obliged his request as she waited for his answer, moving to the other side of the bed to climb in with him. She positioned herself on her side, so she could see his face.

"I want whatever you want, Michonne."

"Then let's talk," she smiled tenderly. "About anything but two days ago."

He couldn't have talked about two days ago even with a gun to his head. "I'd like that."

"What I'd like is a drink right now," she joked, kicking off her shoes. "Probably not the best idea on empty stomach though."

"There oughta be some pork rinds left," he grinned, opening his eyes to gaze at the ceiling. "Should go great with what's left of that vodka downstairs."

She chuckled softly at the mere thought. "That sounds about as disgusting as Carl's giant can of pudding."

"Oh, now you have discerning taste? Have you already forgotten that you considered frozen milk a delicacy?"

"You know what?" she was laughing. "Nobody asked you to comment."

"I'm just sayin', you chose a hell of a time to be picky."

"You're not wrong," she admitted. She planted her hand underneath her cheek as she stared at the side of his face. "But still, nobody asked you."

"Fair enough."

She watched him crane his neck and she imagined it probably pained him to laugh even a little. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a bus," he admitted, trying to hold back a cough.

She gazed down at the hole in his jeans, forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be referencing anything about the prison attack. "It'll pass," she offered, knowing from experience. "All of this will pass, and we'll look back at this as the character building days."

"Is that what we'll call this?"

"The Dark Ages," she smirked. But she quickly reconsidered that that could apply to just about everything they'd been through in the past year and a half. "The Darker Ages."

He smiled sadly at her modification. "I hope you're right."

"She is," Carl proclaimed from the doorway, startling the two of them. "Sorry," he added when both of them sat up in surprise. "I couldn't sleep."

"You okay?" Rick frowned, worried.

He nodded in reply. He thought he wanted to sleep in his 'own' room for a night, but he soon realized he didn't like being alone at night. It had been a long time since he'd slept with anyone more than ten feet away. "Can I sit in here with you guys?"

Michonne immediately moved over in the bed, widening the gap that was already between her and Rick, allowing Carl some space. "Get over here."

He happily crawled into the open spot, instantly feeling protected having them on either side of him. "Are you guys all right?"

"We're trying to be," Rick said, admitting that he wasn't quite there yet. "Just talkin' through it."

"I heard you guys laughing," he said. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Laughter is always good," Michonne nodded. "Even when it hurts."

"And like you said, it won't hurt forever."

"Right."

"I was thinking about it," he went on, "and it seems like we could just stay here."

Rick sighed, unsure whether he was ready to explore that topic yet. "It's an option," he affirmed, glancing past him over to Michonne. "Maybe."

"You guys could be, like, unofficially married, and we'll be our own little family," Carl maintained. "It could work."

Michonne really liked that idea. She thought about how happy that life could be, how simple their existence would be, just the three of them in some random house in some random neighborhood. Nothing to covet. Nothing to take from them. "It could," she agreed, much to her own surprise.

Rick was finding it difficult to imagine a scenario where it could. Particularly because Michonne had just told him she wanted to break up. "Maybe we should get some sleep," he said. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

"He's gonna say no," Carl commented quietly to Michonne, as if his dad couldn't hear.

She smiled in reply, knowing he was probably right. "Wherever we end up, so long as we're together…"

"Everything will be fine."

"Go to sleep," Rick repeated a little more sternly this time.

Carl and Michonne gave each other a look, knowing he meant business, so they gestured zipping their mouths shut and closed their eyes, allowing Rick the peace that he deserved. And soon, the three of them fell asleep in the safety of one another. And for that night, at least, everything was fine.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Ambiguous and useless warning: I had very little chill writing this chapter, so… proceed with caution.

Also, I love you all! -Ash

* * *

**Chapter 10  
****"A win is a win."**

_**1½ months ago.**_

"You look happy," Maggie commented, staring at Michonne where she sat, leaned against the altar of the church. The smile on her face was contagious as she kept her eyes on Carl with Judith.

"I guess that's because I am happy," Michonne admitted, her grin not fading when she took another sip of her wine. With the way things had panned out with Joe, with Terminus, and now they had a place to hole up and rest for a bit, it was hard not to believe that the universe might have finally been on her side. "We're here."

"We are," she agreed, although it stung a bit to not be able to include her sister in that 'we.' But she had to be thankful for what she did have, and she was. "And now we're goin' to Washington to be there."

"You don't sound too excited about that," Michonne smirked.

"No, I am. It's a scary excited, though. Leavin' our home for the unknown…"

"We already did that a couple of weeks ago," she reminded her quietly, referring to the downfall of the prison. "This place is just four walls and a roof. Georgia's just another forest…"

Maggie glanced at her, offering a thoughtful smile. "No reason to stay is a good reason to go."

"Pretty much," she chuckled. "Of course, the sixteen of us on that little bus for two weeks straight might be a good reason to stay."

"No arguments here," she yawned, laughing at her as well. She laid herself out across the pew she'd been sitting at, instantly turning it into her makeshift bed for the night, but kept her eyes on her friend. "Oof. I think I had too much wine."

"No such thing," Michonne sighed, tired as well as she moved across the small space between them so that she was sitting in front of Maggie, using the pew as a backrest. She made sure to take a sip of her alcohol to highlight her point.

"You're a mess," she giggled in response, playfully hitting her shoulder. As Rick walked by them to grab another bottle, Maggie whispered to Michonne, "You know, I can keep an eye on the kids if you two wanna sneak off for a bit."

Michonne looked back at her as if she were crazy. "What?"

"I know you probably haven't had many opportunities with Carl bein' around," she added nudging her.

"Oh," she scoffed to herself, finally realizing what she was implying. Her tipsiness had her a bit slow on the uptake. "That's not a thing anymore."

"What?"

"Or right now," she corrected herself. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, 'it's not a thing,'" Maggie frowned. "What happened?"

"We're just taking a break. That's all."

"I leave you two alone for two weeks and this is what happens?" Maggie sighed. "Seriously?"

Michonne couldn't help but laugh at her outrage, but went on to tell her exactly what happened and why. And while Maggie tried to tell her that she thought it was a bad idea, she knew that she now had reasons to be optimistic about the future, and was willing to take that and run with it.

"Everything will be fine," Michonne assured her, just as Rick approached the two of them, taking a seat on the floor next to her.

"What are you two whisperin' about?" he questioned, refilling Michonne's glass with the contents of his own.

"Just talking about Washington," she half lied. She glared back at Maggie to make sure she wouldn't say any different.

He frowned in concern. "Y'all still wanna go, right?"

"Of course."

"We were just sayin' how we might kill each other on the ride there," Maggie submitted with a sleepy grin. "Should be fun."

Rick chuckled as he held up his glass, as if making another toast. "Here's to an adventure."

Michonne glanced over at him, happy that he also seemed happy for the first time in a while. "You're adorable, you know."

"Adorable?" He shook his head, playfully disappointed with the adjective she'd chosen to describe him. "You're really gonna do that to me?"

"Do what?"

"Maggie, you hear this friendzone talk she's usin' on me?"

"I tried to tell her, Rick," Maggie joked with a shrug. "We can only hope she comes to her senses one day."

"You two are terrible," Michonne chuckled, deciding not to engage in their teasing. She rested her head against Maggie, staring out blankly to the front of the church. Her thoughts roamed to what it would be like in Washington, and what it could look like if they actually found another home. A truly safe space where they could breathe. The only thing to distract her from her fantasy was Rick patting her thigh. She looked over to him curiously.

"Can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

"Sure," she frowned, agilely hopping up from the floor to follow him towards the doors. They stepped into the fairly warm, silent night, and Michonne giggled to herself when she saw Rick nearly stumble as he moved down the stairs. "Something tells me you've had a lot to drink."

"I have had a lot to drink," he admitted with a nod, his eyebrows raised. "Feels good to have a reason to celebrate."

"We've had a couple of really good days, considering," she agreed, ignoring her own intoxication as she leaned against the railing of the steps. "Everyone making it out of Terminus alive… Judith."

"I noticed you finally talkin' to her," he noted with a small smile. "You didn't have to do that, so thank you."

"You said you wished I could've," she remembered. It broke her heart that she never had the strength to tell Rick why she couldn't let herself get close to Judith back at the prison. But she was getting a second chance to do it now, and she wasn't going to waste it. "Truth is, I wish I had done a lot differently at the prison. And I'm just thankful it's not too late."

He nodded, hoping that she didn't mean she wished she had done things differently with him. But he hadn't brought her out there to discuss their relationship, because it didn't matter in that moment. Things were looking up, finally, and he knew that was, in part, because of her. His gaze fell to his feet as he made his declaration. "I want you to know, Michonne… I wouldn't have gotten through this without you."

She looked at him, feeling a giant swell of emotion at his confession, but she shook her head dismissively. "You've gotten through a lot without me."

"Not this," he maintained, moving across the steps so that they were standing face to face. He affectionately rested his hands on her shoulders and kept his eyes on hers. "They all look to me with their questions," he said, gesturing towards the inside of the church where all their friends and family were, "but you're the one I look to for answers. And I need you to know, regardless of whatever happened, whatever happens, I appreciate you for that."

She reached up to hold his forearms, smiling back at him happily. "I do know that, Rick," she promised him. "I do."

He sighed in relief, and quickly pulled her into a hug, happy to inhale her awful scent from their afternoon in stale water. "I hope you meant what you said," he whispered.

She hesitantly pulled out of their embrace to look him in the eye. "Said when?"

"About this being a break." He held her gaze much more intensely than he intended, but sometimes he just got lost in her. "'Cause I'm always gonna have a thing for you."

She tried to contain her smile, but it was bursting past her lips as she shook her head at him again. "You promise?"

"I do."

* * *

_**Present day.**_

It was late when Michonne heard a knock at her door. So late, she wasn't sure that she wasn't dreaming as she glanced at her clock and saw that it was rounding the corner towards 3:00am. But it was followed by sound of Rick's voice softly calling out to her, and she knew she was coherent.

"Michonne?"

Puzzled and worried by what he could possibly want at that hour, she immediately hopped out of bed to answer. She grabbed her robe on the way, just in case he had Morgan or someone else with him. But when she opened the door, she found just him standing there with his head lowered, as if he knew he was in trouble. "You okay?" she frowned, gazing upon him as she turned on her light.

His eyes met hers and he looked tired, but still, much better than the man she left when she retired for the night. The one covered in walker blood, Reg's blood, Pete's blood. It had been a long night, but he looked better now. He was clean, his hair falling in damp ringlets around his face from what was obviously a recent shower. He had removed his bandages, though the small lacerations remained. But more than anything, he appeared to be at ease again. "Is it all right if I come in?"

She stepped back to allow him into her bedroom, knowing that he was probably feeling a lot at the moment. And if that was the case, she was glad he was coming to her to talk instead of keeping it bottled up, or confiding in Carol as he had been. "Where's Morgan?" she wondered, knowing Rick had spent a large portion of the evening talking with him.

"Carol offered him her room and she's with Jessie and her kids for the night," he nodded, taking a seat in her chair near the door. He sighed heavily as he rested his head against the wall. "What a night."

She sat down at the edge of her bed so she could face him. She pulled her knees up to her chest and let the material of her robe cover them. "It has been an interesting two days, to say the least."

He glanced at her knowingly, as that was indeed an understatement. "Deanna's a mess."

"I know Pete was a piece of shit, but Jessie can't be doing too well right now either."

"She's going through a lot right now," he confirmed. When he saw her, she was sad, for sure, but there was a relief that he hadn't really expected for her to realize so quickly. "But she thanked me, which was... I don't know. Odd."

Michonne frowned at that information, but she had long since concluded that she would never really understand Jessie Anderson or her motivations in life. And it probably wasn't her place to. "Well in positive news, Sasha finally came in from her endless post in the bell tower."

He shook his head at the fact that that was just about the only good thing they had going. "And Tara's awake."

"And you have a home for another day," she remarked, even if it was due to absolutely terrible circumstances. But when weren't the circumstances terrible?

"A win is a win," he smirked.

"Have you slept at all?" She wasn't sure why she asked that when the answer was obvious. It was already midnight when she went to bed, so he couldn't have gotten any significant rest since then.

"I just laid down a few minutes ago," he intimated softly. "But when I closed my eyes, I couldn't stop thinkin' of you."

"Me?"

"Us, I guess I should say." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, but kept his eyes focused on her. "This morning, you said you were trying to keep us from drowning, and I've been thinkin' about that all day."

"Why is that?"

"Because I spent all this time resenting you for it. I'm the one that's been pulling us down, and you've been trying to keep us up, and I'm just… I'm sorry, Michonne."

"You don't have to apologize," she smiled at him tenderly.

"No, I do. Because I wanted to understand, but I didn't try to. I just thought, when you said you wanted to put things on pause, that I owed it to you not to fight you on it. But I did it anyway, and I'm sorry."

"Rick…" She didn't know how to accept an apology she had never been looking for in the first place. She chuckled nervously in reply. "You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you everything."

"You don't," she maintained.

"You're the one that got us here," he admitted, his voice hoarse from the long night. "You made Alexandria viable for us."

"That's funny," she smirked. "It kept feeling like I wanted it too much and you never wanted it enough."

His eyes locked on her as he replied, "Even funnier is that that's how I feel about us."

She didn't know what to say. She had become so used to the Rick that didn't make any sense, she didn't know how to engage with the one she knew. The one she loved. Her guard had been up with him recently, and with a few simple words, he was lowering it already. "I hurt you," she said, finally understanding the weight of that and what it had done to him. "I get that. I wouldn't acknowledge it before, and that wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry for that."

He nodded, accepting her apology without hesitation. But after a few seconds of comfortable silence, he stood from his chair, prepared to leave her alone for the night. It was inexplicably late, and he'd taken up enough of her day with his troubles. "I should let you get some rest..."

"You're leaving?" she looked up at him, disappointed that he had no designs on staying all night like he used to.

He glanced back at her with a smirk on his face, relieved that she didn't actually want him to go. He was planning to tread lightly, figuring it would take baby steps to get them back where they were, but maybe it wouldn't be that difficult after all. "You want me to stay?"

"To sleep," she emphasized, eyeing him seriously. "I just don't want you to be alone tonight. I don't wanna be alone," she appended, grinning at him sweetly. "I've missed you."

He closed his eyes at those three words, letting them sink in. When he opened them, she was throwing off her robe and getting back into bed. And it was then he noticed that she wore only a tank top and a pair of panties, which would undoubtedly make it difficult for him to actually sleep. But he was more than willing to give it a try. He turned out the lights, then met her on the opposite side of her queen-sized bed and settled in, resting comfortably on his back, same as her.

He let out a soft exhale as he rested his clasped hands over his chest. "Carol asked me today if we were getting back together."

She smiled to herself when she realized he was going to make it one of those nights. "Maggie asks me this every day," she joked. "What did you say?"

"I don't think I answered her," he chuckled. "I didn't know the answer."

"Well great, she's probably plotting my death as we speak."

He had no idea what she meant by that, but he couldn't help but laugh anyway. "What?"

"I don't know what happened. Maybe she thinks I had something to do with you exiling her from the prison," she shrugged. "But somewhere along the line, Carol decided that she doesn't like us together. And you can tell me if I'm wrong about this, but it feels like she's steered you away from me."

He considered that for a moment, but was hesitant to say that she might be right. The group was fractured enough as it was. "She saved my daughter," he said, attempting to defend her. "She saved all of us."

"Tyreese saved your daughter," she shot back. "We've all saved each other. You don't owe her the world, Rick."

"I know," he nodded against his pillow. "I just… wonder. I think about it too much, I know," he admitted. "But I think about how if I had listened to her, maybe we wouldn't have lost our first home."

She turned on her side so that she was looking at him, taking in the torment he still lived with. "We're figuring it out," she reminded him. "We're okay."

His eyes darted in her direction, though he couldn't actually see her from his position. "It was so easy with you," he commented, still not understanding it all. "I jumped in head first with you. I never do that. But it was like, for this little slice of time, I forgot that I was grieving my wife." He turned so that he was facing her now, gazing her up and down pensively. "I forgot to be sad."

"Maybe that's because you weren't sad anymore," she offered softly. "That's not a crime."

"Then why did it change here?"

"Because this place reminds you of everything you had before."

He nodded, his stare intense on her. "Jessie needed me," he realized as it clicked into place why he was so fixated on her. Why Alexandria had ruined him. "I saw it the day we met, I saw it at that party. She was trying to be helpful, but I could tell she needed the help. And finally, yesterday, she asked if I would help someone else in her situation, and the truth is that I would. I do," he acknowledged, shaking his head. "But I so desperately wanted to be useful to someone, because you didn't need me, that I told her I wouldn't. And I think that's what it was with her. Whenever I looked at her, I saw the life I had back in King County. There was the wife that needed me to take care of her, and I was the sheriff again, and… I didn't know what it all meant, but it made me… it gave me this ache. I kept wanting to go home."

She matched his gaze, her eyes narrowed on him as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. "You did have to leave it all very abruptly," she understood. "Maybe the world is trying to tell you to slow down. Take a deep breath."

"Maybe so." He exhaled shakily, scratching at his eyebrow with his thumb as he often did.

"The hardest part of letting go is finding something to put in its place. But this is your home, Rick. Our home now."

"I know," he was half smiling at her. "I always know where I am when I'm with you."

That instantly warmed her heart and she fell back into her pillows for just a second. "God, I wish you hadn't disappeared on me. You said you would never stop trying, and then you did exactly that."

"I know," he repeated, his eyes shifting downward uncomfortably.

"Was that you doing the same thing to me that you did with Jessie? Just saying what you thought I needed to hear?"

"No," he whispered. "I couldn't, even if I wanted to."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you really know me."

She smirked back at him, her expressive eyes taking in the piercing blue of his. She ran her fingers through his curls, moving them from his face – even though she loved when his hair was in his face – and then rested her hand on his exposed cheek. "That poor girl," she spoke softly. "She has no idea she'll never be strong enough to love you."

He rested his hand over hers, loving the sensation of her tender touch. He closed his eyes, not wanting to talk about Jessie any more. "You are."

"I am," she confidently agreed as she pulled her hand away slowly. "If I wanted to be."

"Oh, so you don't wanna be anymore?" When she didn't answer, he pressed her to tell him what he wanted to hear now. "Are you implying that you've given up on us? That we're just gonna stay friends from here on out?"

"That was just a different chapter in our lives, Rick."

"Same book…"

"We can't move forward if we're on two different pages."

He chuckled at her analysis, but figured she wasn't completely serious if she'd invited him to sleep in her bed like she used to. He picked up her hand that had been resting between them, playing with the tips of her fingers. "Fair enough."

"You're incorrigible," Michonne giggled, realizing that he was going to flirt with her, regardless of what she said.

He smiled back at her when he attempted to let go of her hand and she was the one to hold on. "So this morning was... what?" he posited, referring to their almost encounter at the empty house.

"Could you be a little more specific?"

"Well we came pretty close to crossing that line again."

"What line is that?" she simpered, knowing exactly what he was referring to.

"The one where we had sex," he deadpanned. "Come on, Kiddo."

"You're right." She lifted her free hand to his mouth, running her thumb across his bottom lip, then pulled it back before she even realized what she was doing. "But this morning would've been a mistake."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because we wouldn't have resolved anything, and you'd probably still be acting like a dumbass."

Rick chuckled at her choice of words, not taking his gaze off of her. "Is that meant to imply that I'm not a dumbass anymore?"

"It seems like you may have learned your lesson," she had to admit. She didn't miss that his eyes kept roaming to her chest, much in the same way hers did to his mouth. "But still..."

"Right," he nodded sarcastically. Without thinking too much about it, he used his index finger to lift the neckline of her tank top, getting an uncensored peek at her décolletage. He then swiftly lowered it to expose one of her breasts, already fondling her erect nipple and the gauge that pierced it.

She licked her lips at the feeling of his hands on her again. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to tell me to stop."

She glided her thumb across his bottom lip once more, remembering how good he was at kissing her. How good he was with his tongue. And how he ate her pussy like it was the last meal he would ever have on Earth. She smiled at him and turned away to retreat from the bed, headed for her door.

"Where are you going?" he questioned in confusion, sitting up on his own side of the bed.

After locking the door, Michonne turned back to him with that same seductive grin on her face. "Just in case."

He smiled in reply as she walked towards him, pulling off her tank top and throwing it to the floor in the process. She was so goddamn sexy, it almost wasn't fair. He pulled her close to him, burying his face in her torso, softly licking at her silky skin, as she stood between his legs, running her fingers through his hair. His tongue was warm, but still tickled her as it moved across her bellybutton and up her ribcage.

He kept one hand on her waist, but the other held the back of her thigh, slowly roaming upwards towards her backside before sliding inside her panties to finger her from behind. He gently massaged the soft lips of her pussy while his mouth ravished her breasts, sucking, licking, biting at them softly. She involuntarily clenched her walls around his fingers as they entered her, causing her to gasp slightly, her mouth hanging open as she allowed him to explore her. She was getting wetter by the second, and her body rocked against him, moving to the rhythm of his fingers delving further inside her.

She almost couldn't take it. He had rough hands, but his fingers were delicate and the balance he had learned to strike was magnificent. She was already coming when he pulled out and trailed his hand up her ass to hold onto her hips. "I hate you," she whispered playfully, feeling like her insides were tingling.

He grinned up at her sexily, taking in the sight of her beautiful face. "I love you."

Without another word, Michonne pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, her face unable to contain a smile as she moved in to kiss him, only breaking contact to pull off his shirt. Her hands squeezed at his flesh fervently, desperate for the feel of his skin and the exquisite ridges of his taut stomach. Her tits grazed his chest as she moved her kisses down his neck, licking at his Adam's apple, nipping at the small abrasions along his chin. His bruises a reminder of everything they'd been through since arriving to Alexandria. How their separation, in the end, only made her want him more.

Rick's erection was getting bigger with every passing moment, and she could feel it between her thighs, begging to be released. Still, his fingers continued to massage her clit over her panties. The cotton fabric was wet at the center, allowing him to feel her sensitive bud with ease, while the friction only added to the stimulation. She swallowed hard, feeling another orgasm looming.

"Are you trying to find out how many times you can make me come before we actually fuck?" she joked breathily, staring him in the eye.

He bit at his bottom lip, sneaking his digits inside her once more, answering her question without saying a word. Her hips contorted against him, rolling them around his fingers as she panted silently, her mouth wide open. "Come on," he whispered huskily, encouraging her climax.

And there it was. She moaned as quietly as she could as she exploded inside, and Rick watched in satisfaction as her delight showed all over her face. "Rick…" she cried out softly.

"Should we go for three in a row?" He held her thigh, wanting to pull her towards his face.

"Just… wait," she exhaled, trying not to lose it at just the sight of him licking his lips. She loved that he still concentrated on pleasing her despite his cock practically turning to steel beneath her. It was a miracle he hadn't burst through his pants. When she sat back, she could see its outline beneath his pajamas. A perfect imprint of his length that she began to rub with her fingers, teasingly tonguing his Adonis belt as she made her way lower.

She took her time carefully rolling his pants down his hips until his cock came into view, springing straight into the air the second she set it free. She smiled at the sight of it, all big and hard, the head already glistening as she took him into her hands. She stroked him long and slow, satisfied with herself as she listened to him grunt in response. She squeezed him lightly, coercing his cum from the tip, then leaned down to suck it off, as if catching drops of melted ice cream falling from a cone. She loved the taste of him. She was tempted to just suck him dry right then and there.

Instead, she moved back up so that she was straddling his waist again, the only thing between them being her underwear. "You want me to stay on top?" she suggested, already swirling her hips against his cock.

She felt so good exactly where she was, and the heat between her thighs was making his dick twitch with excitement. But he had gone too long without tasting her, and his mouth was watering for it. "I wanna eat you out," he answered bluntly.

She swallowed visibly and nodded, her insides already quivering. In one rapid motion, he picked her up by her ass and flipped her back onto the bed. She squealed in surprise, clutching the sheets to gather her bearings as he pulled her panties down her thighs.

He squeezed her thighs as he brought her close, staring eagerly at her strawberry bubblegum center. He wanted to lick her clean before making her come again. He used his index and middle fingers to part her slit, then let his tongue go to work, running along her folds in languorous and long waves. He delved into her juicy depths, swallowing up every drop that she left for him, licking it from both his fingers and her cunt at the same time. His beautiful pink lips sucked at her beautiful pink clit, his tongue lightly flicking at the bud to make her contort in ecstasy. She frantically fondled her breasts, pretending they were Rick's hands, while he explored every inch of her delicious pussy. He had no mercy on her as he pushed his tongue soft and slow into her center and rolled it around in figure eights, forcing her to scream out.

"Oh god," she moaned, impulsively closing her legs in on his head. It felt so excruciatingly good, she was pulling away, unable to take the pleasure, even though she wanted more of it. "Rick..."

He pulled up for just a moment licking at his own swollen lips as he ran his fingers along hers, preparing to finish her off. Then he dove in, plunging his tongue into her core, using the tip of it to simulate the letters of his name, and then hers, over and over again. And as her body shook in excitement, he used the entire span of his tongue to catch every drop of her.

"You taste like heaven," he mumbled into her happily.

Michonne released the grip her knees had on his head and smiled back at him blithely when he came up for air. "And your tongue is the devil."

He offered a lust-filled smile in reply as he leaned in to suck at her breasts once more, his teeth clicking against her adornment as she wrapped her legs around his waist, his dick rubbing against her thigh. She tried to reach down and stick it in herself, but he had already taken over, rubbing the head against her opening to feel his way in. He pushed inside of her roughly, and immediately pulled out slowly, knowing it would make her head spin, and she responded thusly, moaning out loud.

"Oh, fuck," she whimpered, not caring if anyone heard. If everyone heard. Using her flexibility to her advantage, she instinctively widened her legs, allowing him whatever angle he needed to go deeper.

Rick got the message loud and clear, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he drowned himself in Michonne. He reveled in the feel of them being skin to skin for the first time, nothing between him and her sweet, wet center. "You feel so fuckin' good," he whispered, pumping into her slowly now.

"You do too," she panted, blissfully taking in every inch of him. "Harder."

Happy to oblige, he began to thrust into her forcefully while keeping his strokes long and rhythmic. She bit at her bottom lip and dug her fingers into his skin to keep from crying out, but she wanted to scream his name. He could feel her tightening around him, quickening his pace when he locked eyes with her, the passion between them driving him insane. He held her throat as he kissed the side of her face, his cock pounding into her harder, faster, matching the rapid tempo of her breathing.

"Fuck," she was gasping, trying to push her hair off of her face. It was hot and she couldn't breathe in the best way possible. The sounds of the bed squeaking and his cock sliding into her wet pussy only added to the intensity. She loved the way he fucked her, hungrily, aggressively. He squeezed her ass, sucked her tits, kissed her mouth sloppily, all while hammering into her, both their bodies undulating to the cadence he created for them.

Rick felt like he was at the edge of a cliff as he tried to hold back from climaxing before Michonne. But her pussy was fucking sublime. Delectably wet and fit him like a glove. "I'm almost there," he grunted, still trying to restrain himself.

"Go 'head," she breathed. With the way he was moving, she was surprised he was still with her.

"You first."

"I'm about to be on my four—" Her sentence was cut off by another wave of ecstasy, and she couldn't be bothered to finish it, or even speak coherently, as it washed over her. "Shhh...it," she moaned out loudly.

Thankful that he didn't have to wait any longer – he _couldn't_ wait any longer – he buried his face into her chest as he rode her to his own finish line, his warm load filling her and even dripping to her outer lips as he groaned in pure satisfaction. It took a moment, but he hesitantly pulled out and fell onto the bed beside her.

"Fuck," she exhaled, smiling over at him as she closed her legs. As if there were any space left in the room for modesty. "I guess you really did miss me."

He looked over to her and attempted to brush the sweat that beaded at her hairline. "Let's do ourselves both a favor and not fight ever again."

"I dunno," she countered, pulling herself up from his touch. She bent over the edge of the bed to grab her robe and flung it over her body as she climbed off of the mattress altogether. "Making up is kinda fun."

"Where the hell are you going now?" he held out his arm to her as if he could stop her from disappearing.

"Don't move," she smirked, heading out of the door without answering.

"I couldn't if I wanted to," he said out loud, even though she was already gone. The sound of running water sent him into a daze, and he stared up at the ceiling as he tried to come down from his high. But all he could see was Michonne and her gorgeous dark skin glistening underneath him, rocking to his beat. He was about to get hard again just thinking about it.

She returned to her room a few minutes later, loving the sight of a naked Rick Grimes in her bed, amused by whatever he must have been thinking about. "Why do you have that stupid grin on your face," she chuckled.

"Just thinkin' about you," he professed, still fixated on the ceiling.

She threw off her robe and crawled back into her messy bed, happy to have him there for the first time since arriving to Alexandria. Like the good old days. And he did just as she hoped he would, falling in behind her as the big spoon, wrapping her in his arms.

He let out a simultaneously happy, tired, and relieved exhale as he settled in behind Michonne, the scent of her toothpaste slowly wafting over him. He lifted his head to look at her, playfully offended by her antics. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?" she turned back to him innocently.

"Did you just go in there to brush your teeth?"

"Among other things…"

He had to laugh at her apparent obsession with clean teeth. "You need help."

"Listen, you're not gonna judge me in my own bed," she joked. She purposely entangled her leg with his and nestled into him even further. "Now go to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, instantly closing his eyes as instructed. She was thankful he didn't put up a fight, but figured he was probably just as exhausted as she was, if not more. The night had already turned to morning and to top it off, they had just exerted a _lot_ of energy. But then Rick cut into the silence, as he always did, as if he'd been waiting for a cue. "I'm glad we had this," he declared, softly caressing her stomach. "Even if it is all we ever get."

Michonne couldn't help but smirk to herself, amused by his need to always continue the conversation. But she was glad that some things never changed. "Me too, Rick."

"When you said that we can find a way," he started to whisper near her ear, "you didn't just mean Alexandria, did you?"

She smiled at the question, but made the deliberate decision not to respond. Because even if she never said it, they both knew the answer.

"Go to sleep, Rick."


	11. Epilogue

**A/N: **Alright. So I think some of you probably saw this coming, but we've reached the end of the story! This is the last chapter (the epilogue, tbh) and I'm super sad about it. I didn't expect to enjoy writing this as much as I did, and I certainly didn't expect you guys to like it, considering the time frame we were dealing with. (I think most Richonners can attest to Alexandria being a bit of a dark period for us, haha.) But I guess that's why it was fun to create a different narrative, and I'm so thankful to you all for coming along for the ride. This is somehow my most popular story to date, and that's just… whew. You guys are so freaking awesome. Like I can't put into words how much I enjoy hearing from you all, and a special shoutout to y'all that share your thoughts every chapter – all the guests, blackwomanwriter, charrrmed, HeartToSteel, lanie-love09, Bizzie106, birdnmouse, Tobi-Is-Fluffy-Chan, severelybabykryptonite, focusedOnProsperity, LadyLuckAJ, Alex311, snuggy29, Siancore – you the real MVPs! I'm sitting here like an idiot trying not to cry, but it really means everything that you've taken the time out of your lives to read and review. Seriously. Every one of you has given me a reason to smile, and I can't thank you enough.

I plan to start my next story fairly soon, which will be the sequel to Don't Let Me Down (I'm equal parts scared and excited about this, lol), so I hope to see you there! But if not, all I can say is, thanks for this amazing ride, you guys! I love you! –Ashley

* * *

**Epilogue  
**"**I guess we're doing this again, huh?"**

_**3 months later. **_

"Shit." Michonne was attempting to step out of her closet, toting a large box, but nearly tripped over Rick's shoes, inexplicably in the middle of the floor. For nearly two years, those things were always on his feet, and now, they were constantly in her path. Rolling her eyes, she picked them up, grabbed her own heels from her bed, and continued downstairs.

There, she found Carl leaned over the kitchen table, listening to an iPod he'd borrowed from Mikey, which made her frown immediately. She dropped her box and shoes, and pulled one of the earbuds from his ear, looking at him expectantly.

He gazed up at her, both confused and surprised. "Whoa, you look awesome," he marveled, taking in the sight of her.

"Thank you," she answered begrudgingly. She was trying to be mad at him, and here he was complimenting her. "Aren't you grounded?"

"You mean I can't listen to music either?" he exhaled sharply, frustrated with his parents beyond belief.

She eyed him suspiciously, knowing that he knew exactly what his punishment entailed. "Your dad said no electronics."

"He told you that?"

"He tells me everything." She held out her hand, waiting for him to hand over the MP3 player. He did so about as slowly as humanly possible. "You mad?"

"I'm just tired of being on punishment," he sighed, stretching his arms over his head. "I think I was way worse at the prison, and no one ever said anything."

"Yeah, well… this ain't the prison, my friend."

"No kidding."

"Listen," she smirked, wrapping the headphone cord around the iPod. She made a mental note to return it to Mikey at the party they were headed to. "Nobody told you to skip school. If you'd stop doing stupid shit to make Enid like you, maybe you wouldn't keep getting in trouble."

"Well then what am I supposed to do?" he frowned. "How did my dad get your attention?"

She had to smile as she thought back to where she and Rick were a year ago. She remembered it well, the night she began to really pay attention to _Rick Grimes_, the person. The two of them out looking for the Governor, making small talk and big talk. Becoming friends. The randomness of his conversations always made her forget about the rest of the world. It took her a long time to figure out whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, and even longer to stop punishing herself for deciding that it was good. But she got there. "He just talked to me," she eventually revealed with a small shrug. "Which, I know, isn't the easiest thing for a teenager to do, but... you're never gonna get her attention if you're never allowed to see her."

He chuckled at her advice. Indeed, being grounded didn't bode well for him trying to get to know Enid. Even with her and Ron having broken up, he just seemed to be failing on all accounts. "Do you think we could have her over for dinner one night?"

"In a week," she nodded, "we can definitely discuss that as a possibility." She was trying not to be amused with how nervous he seemed. "Are you coming to the party?"

"Do I have to?"

"No," she granted, shaking her head. "If you do, at least you'll get to see your friends. But don't think you're gonna sit here and watch movies while we're gone, Carl. I'm gonna feel that TV the second I walk in."

"Fine." Another frustrated sigh escaped his lips and he shot up to go throw on a decent shirt and grab his jacket.

"Adjust your attitude," she advised as she headed into the living room, where she'd left Rick and Judith nearly an hour ago. She hadn't heard a peep from them, and the television was off, so she figured they must have fallen asleep. But the actual sight of Judith snuggled into the sweet spot between her father's neck and chest nearly killed Michonne. "That's my spot," she playfully whispered to their baby girl. She then leaned over the back of the couch to run her fingers through Rick's hair.

His eyes fluttered open and he stared up at Michonne, looking like a goddess beneath the warm glow of the sunset filling the room. "Hey," he greeted her groggily.

"Hey," she smiled back at him. "You ready?"

Those two words always managed to light up his face and he nodded. "I guess we're doing this again, huh?"

"Come on." She began to gently stroke Judith's back as well, coercing her awake. "Everyone deserves their welcome." Aaron and Daryl had brought in a couple nearly two weeks ago, and this was the community's first opportunity to give them their party.

"Where's Carl?" he wondered, sitting up from his position. It was then that he noticed Michonne's plum-colored dress, and how absolutely perfect she looked in it. It was long-sleeved and backless, and it contoured to her immaculate shape, causing Rick to just stare at her. "Jesus," he declared in awe.

"What?"

"You look incredible."

"Oh." She self-consciously looked down at herself and gave him a half smile. "Thank you."

He approached her with a devilish smirk on his face as he handed over Judith so that he could retrieve his shoes. "This is disrespectful to our neighbors, you know."

"What?" she laughed.

"You're gonna have everyone jealous. The women, of you, and the men, of me."

She smiled flirtatiously in response as he moved towards the table, her eyes studying him bent over to step into his boots. She loved and hated how sexy she found him, even doing the simplest things. She could already tell it was going to be a long night, just based on the way they were looking at each other. They hadn't even left the house yet, and she was already squeezing her thighs together, trying not to think about fucking him. Having to wait until they got home again would truly be a feat.

"I see you actually found some stuff," he called out to her, thankfully interrupting her rampant thoughts. He was referring to the box that she'd brought from upstairs, full of baby clothes and a couple of small, knitted blankets.

"Yeah, the attic was a goldmine," she confirmed, her focus shifting to the toddler she had perched on her hip. She smiled at her in her adorable gold dress, and her black and gold headband to match. "Maggie will have plenty to work with by the time the baby gets here."

"She keeps asking me for Judith's crib," he chuckled, returning to where the two of them stood, near the door. He handed over Michonne's chocolate-colored pumps in exchange for the baby, once more. "I wanna give her a phone book and tell her to leave our kid's stuff alone."

"She knew better than to ask me," she laughed back, holding onto his shoulder as she put on her shoes. As they waited for Carl, it was Daryl who came trampling down the stairs with his usual boorish scowl on his face.

"Don't y'all look like a happy couple," he commented casually. And they did look rather perfect together. Rick's tan button-down complemented the color of Michonne's dress well. They looked like autumn personified. They smiled at one another knowingly, but said nothing in reply. "Carol oughta be down in a minute," he added.

"We should head over," Michonne said to Rick, having little interest in waiting for or arriving with her. She began to grab jackets for everyone, thankful when Carl finally appeared, so that she wouldn't have to. "Morgan said he'd meet us there."

"All right," Daryl nodded, understanding the chasm between Carol and Michonne, and that it wouldn't be fixed anytime soon. "I can wait for 'em both."

As Carl came into the circle, Michonne noticed that he had not only put on a fresh set of clothes, but also brushed his typically messy hair. "Did you take a shower?" she teased him.

"I washed my face and put on some deodorant," he admitted shyly. "And maybe brushed my teeth."

"And combed your hair," Rick chimed in, amused as well.

"Well you guys got dressed up, I figured it couldn't hurt."

Michonne smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder lightly, urging him out of the door. "I'm sure Enid will think you look great."

Together, the four of them continued out of the house and up the street towards Deanna's. The night was cool and the streets were quiet, aside from their footsteps against the pavement, and Judith's light babbling as she tried to pull out of her father's embrace. It seemed that she wanted to get down and walk, just like everyone else.

"All right, all right," Rick relented, setting her down on the sidewalk between himself and Michonne. He took her right hand into his left and they all watched with smiles as she shakily set forth with the rest of them. It didn't take long before she was practically running, dragging him along with her.

"You know," Michonne started to Carl as the two of them fell behind a bit, "some girls really love seeing a guy with a baby."

"Really?" He looked over at her, understanding that she was giving him pointers for his courtship with Enid.

"I'm not saying it always works, but…" Her words trailed off as she focused in on Rick and just how adorable he was with his daughter. It got her going every single time. "But when it does…"

He nodded thoughtfully at Michonne's advice, happy to have something he could latch onto. He took care of his sister anyway, but if he could use that to his advantage, he was definitely going to take it.

"Hey," Rick turned around and stopped in the sidewalk as they began to approach Deanna's walkway. He had already forgotten the names of the guests of honor. "What are these people's names again?"

"Denise and Heath," she shook her head, reminding him for what had to be the third time since their arrival. "Denise is our new doctor, so it'd be nice if you could at least remember her."

"Dr. Cloyd," Carl nodded in agreement. "She's super nice."

"How would you know?" he asked his son as he picked up his daughter.

"Michonne took us for check-ups yesterday. She said I'm in perfect health," he declared proudly. "And she said Judith is shockingly healthy, considering she was born after all this started."

"Did she now?" Rick was both glad to hear it and confused as to why Michonne hadn't informed him of any of this, before or after. "I guess I didn't need to know about this, huh?"

"Sucks to be excluded, doesn't it," she winked playfully. "But it really did just slip my mind since they both got clean bills of health."

"I don't know how I feel about that," he eyed her suspiciously, then looked down to his giggling daughter. "No one tells me anything around here."

"Well I can tell you that you're scheduled for an appointment on Tuesday. Now you know something."

"Me?" He sounded terrified by that idea. "I'm fine."

"Yes, you are," she joked. "But let's just make sure the doctor says so, too."

"And what about you? You just get off scot-free because you make the arrangements?"

"Actually," she retorted as they reached the steps of Deanna's already lively home, "I signed us both up for Tuesday, so you wouldn't have to do it alone."

"Oh."

"Yeah, '_oh_,'" she mocked him with a smile. She watched Carl run up the short staircase, and she placed her hand on Rick's back as the three of them entered the home behind him, surveying the room for people they knew. She immediately spotted Maggie and Sasha near the kitchen, Deanna in the living room with Glenn and Heath, and then she noticed Jessie standing near the window of the den, pretending she hadn't seen them come in. She made the deliberate choice to head in the opposite direction of her, towards the kitchen. "Should we grab something to eat first?" she suggested to Rick.

"Yeah, that's a good place to start," he agreed. He knew all the people he could see in the kitchen and therefore wouldn't have to make awkward small talk. He really hated these parties.

But as soon as they began to retreat from the foyer, Jessie found herself trying to get Rick's attention before she could stop herself. She just couldn't bear the thought of him ignoring her all night, yet again. "Rick?" she called after him, though she felt a bit nervous when Michonne turned as well. But she only took Judith from him so that he could speak to Jessie alone.

"Stay close," he requested of her quietly, nearly inaudibly, before turning toward his neighbor. He was hesitant to speak with her, as they hadn't had a conversation longer than twenty seconds in months, but he made sure to look her in the eye as he approached. "What's up?"

"Hi," she greeted him.

"Hey."

Her warm hazel eyes searched him for any of what she used to see, but it was so far gone, she didn't even recognize him. She'd known it for weeks, even months now, but it was hard to accept, all the same. "Look, I understand that this isn't... that we can't ever be anything substantial. You and Michonne are... " She was nodding as she glanced down at his left hand, noticing, yet again, that his wedding ring was gone. That he'd moved on to something else entirely. "And that's fine," she assured him. "But I'd like it if we could be friends."

He squinted, trying to get a gauge on what she was trying to actually say – that she wanted to be in his life, regardless of the circumstances. But it just reminded him of when Pete said the same – that they should be friends, essentially because they had to be. And that just wasn't true. "Is that really what you want?"

"What?" she blinked, taken aback by his response.

"We can try that, if that's really what you want," he stated honestly. He couldn't help but glance back to make sure Michonne was still nearby. "But I don't know what you get out of that. What a bunch of forced interactions will really do for you. Because at the end of the day, that's all they'll be."

"I-." She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing was coming out.

"You don't know me, Jessie. Not the real me. And I'm not sayin' this to be callous, but just because it might just be easier on us both if we keep it that way."

"Wow," she nodded, her eyes beginning to well with tears. She wasn't sure how she managed to conjure up so much emotion for a man that, admittedly, she barely knew. But with her husband gone, she thought her life was taking a different turn, and Rick just kept cutting her off at the pass. "You'd think I was the one that initiated this whole thing."

"I will take the blame for that," he nodded as well. "Just like I did the last time I said this. But you gotta believe people when they tell you it's over. They don't wanna say it, so it's usually the truth."

"You're right," she exhaled nervously. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he said, already stepping back from their conversation. "I wish I'd come to all these conclusions sooner…"

"Me, too," she retorted sarcastically, her eyebrows raised as she took a sip of her drink. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Enjoy your evening," he finished. He instantly turned to where Michonne was sitting on the steps, playing with Judith, pretending she hadn't been listening to every word they said. He moved to take a seat next to her, sighing heavily as he rested his head against the bannister and looked at her.

"That was brutal," she commented, keeping her eyes on the baby walking across her lap. "But I'm proud of you for saying it."

"I feel like an asshole," he chuckled quietly.

"Well, you are one. But… you never really pretended to be otherwise," she had to admit. "People tell you who they are, and we ignore them, because we want them to be who we want them to be."

"This is fact."

"Plus, you have this way about you," she said, sitting Judith in her lap. She looked him in the eye as she spoke now, remembering all the reasons she loved him. "When you love someone, Rick… it feels like the sun was shining on you," she explained, speaking from experience. "And when you took that away, it felt… cold. All of a sudden. It's very hard to adjust to."

"Michonne, I _never_ stopped loving you."

"Well, it felt like you did."

"And I never loved her."

She brought her hand to his face, tenderly holding his cheek as she often did when being candid with him. "It probably felt like you did."

* * *

"So guess who was at our house 'til after midnight," Maggie teased, her eyebrow quirked as she gazed across the kitchen counter at Michonne.

"No!" Michonne slapped the marble surface excitedly, her smile wide as ever. "Again?"

Rick stood beside Michonne, looking at Maggie and Rosita's expressions of giddiness, feeling lost in their conversation, yet again. He'd been standing in Deanna's kitchen with the three ladies for over an hour, and every topic of discussion was something else he had no idea about. The gossip had apparently been running rampant in Alexandria. "Who?"

"And he had lunch there too," Rosita added, sidestepping Rick's question. They were so engaged in their chitchat, they were all ignoring him, really. "She made sandwiches, they shared a couple of beers..."

"So they basically had two dates in one day," Maggie appended.

"Who?" he pressed, an endearingly confused frown taking over his face.

"That's not adorable," Michonne was grinning. "So are we all on board that this is an official thing now?"

"I wasn't sure," Rosita admitted, pulling up from the counter to take a sip of her wine. "But I think you guys were right."

"We're always right," Maggie beamed, pleased with herself and Michonne's prowess. "We called this one way in the beginning."

Rick exhaled in exasperation, in disbelief that no one was going to answer him. "Somebody is gonna have to start defining some pronouns here."

"Sasha and Spencer," Michonne hushed him. "Keep up."

"Spencer Monroe?"

"Yes," the three of them hissed back at him in unison.

"He's been tryin' to talk to Sasha since _our_ welcome party," Maggie added. "She obviously wasn't into it for a while, but it seems like she's finally started respondin'."

"Well wait," he wondered obliviously. "What was he doing over there until midnight?"

Michonne gave him a curious frown, feeling like he should know the answer to that better than anyone. "What do you think?"

"No fuckin' way."

"Did you think everyone was celibate around here but you?" Rosita joked.

"Well obviously not," he retorted, gesturing towards Maggie's barely-there baby bump. "But I thought she was still doing her 'I love Jesus' thing."

"That's been over forever, Rick."

"Well no one told me." Shaking his head, he took a sip from his own glass just as Tara and Eugene came traipsing into the kitchen, with Glenn not far behind. Night had fallen, and everyone was appropriately tipsy for the ongoing festivities.

"What's this powwow about?" Tara greeted the foursome, taking position beside Rosita. "What'd we miss?"

"Nothin'," Rick answered for the group. He liked knowing something other people didn't, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Nothing you don't know already," Rosita informed her, ignoring Rick yet again. "We talked about the new couple, and then Olivia's crush on Daryl, Jon hitting on Michonne, Daryl and Carol, Sasha and Spencer. The usual shit."

"Nice," she nodded coolly. "You guys are also welcome to talk about me and Holly outside of my presence. And in fact, I insist."

The small group laughed in reply, but Michonne couldn't help but notice that they were all still stuck together, even after being at Alexandria for months now. They still gravitated towards their own. "We're really shitty at this mingling thing," she proclaimed with a drunken laugh as she leaned in to Rick.

"We all end up grouped together every single time," Glenn agreed, shaking his head, taking Maggie's hand into his. "We're the worst."

"It's clearly because we're the best," Tara inserted. "Birds of a feather and all that…"

Rick discreetly rested his hand at the small of Michonne's back, grazing her ass in the process. He was suddenly interested in being grouped with just her. Seven was feeling like a bit of a crowd. "I'm ready to go home," he whispered into her ear.

Smiling at the sensation of his warm fingers on her bare back, she lightly swatted his thigh and then refilled each of their glasses with the Pinot they'd been drinking all evening. "Be good," she whispered back to him. She wouldn't have minded getting out of there either, but it was barely 8:00pm. It would've been rude.

"Well that's no fun," he was smiling back at her, doing a very bad job of not giving their private conversation away.

"What are you two whisperin' about," Maggie noticed Michonne giggle. "We're supposed to be sharin' secrets together."

"This one's for just the two of us," she shot back, the grin not leaving her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Carl on the couch with Judith in his lap, and Enid sitting next to him, which made her smile even brighter. Her mind instantly drifted back to the prison, and those wonderful autumn days when she and Rick were just getting to know one another. "Do we have any cards?" she proposed rather suddenly. A good poker game would be a perfect way to pass the time.

"I can ask Deanna," Maggie nodded. "And if not, we have some back at the house."

"Are we playin' poker?" Eugene asked hopefully. He was already prepared to head home for their cards, if need be.

"Yes," Glenn patted his back reassuringly. "We should find Abraham and Daryl and Carol to see if they wanna join."

Rick looked at Michonne, hoping that she was thinking the same thing he was in that moment. It was a perfect opportunity for them to sneak away, even if just for a moment. She gazed up at him perceptively, letting him know that it was all right to proceed. "While y'all are doing that," he declared, "we're gonna go outside for a minute."

"For what?" Eugene frowned, confused.

"…To smoke," Rick returned as they grabbed their glasses and hightailed it towards the garage.

"Since when do they smoke?" Rosita wondered, equally puzzled by their sudden departure.

Maggie only chuckled knowingly and shook her head. "They don't."

The two of them entered the empty garage with giant sighs of relief, Michonne immediately stepping out of her heels while Rick used a vacant shelf to lean against as a seat. He watched her as she walked in circles around the fairly large space, examining all the other shelves full of food.

"Why are you all the way over there?" he called out to her. He gulped down what was left of his wine and sat the glass on the floor. "Get over here."

She immediately sauntered his way, turned on by the way his eyes were narrowed on her, and as always, the way he licked his lips. She approached him coolly, standing between his legs while he held her hips. "What do you want?" she grinned.

"You," he retorted simply and sincerely.

"Here?" she pressed, already knowing the answer. She ran her free hand along his thigh, amused by the look on his face in response to her touch.

"Yes." He pulled her in close so that she could feel his bulge as he squeezed her ass. "Now."

"There are forty people in there that could walk out here at any moment, you know."

"I don't care," he whispered. He was already lifting her dress as he watched her finish her drink as well.

She leaned into him, setting her glass down behind him, and then cupped his face. She ran her fingers through his curls as she gazed into his lust-filled eyes. They both knew that the thrill of possibly getting caught was half the fun. She went in for a fast and messy kiss before pulling back to look at him once more. Her man of many words had so few when it was time to get busy. She smiled at him sexily as she touched her thumb to his mouth. "We've gotta be quick."

She didn't have to say anything else. With one more lick of his lips, he pulled her thong down her legs, and lifted her dress above her waist. "Deal."

**End**


End file.
